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Kirk T Walker
Member
since 2000-01-13
Posts 357
Liberty, MO

0 posted 2001-04-18 12:23 PM



Static Clouds
by Kirk T Walker

Static clouds, lazy and ominous, hang in unbudging form,
Painted a perfect fluffy white with grey bellies,
As if someone forgot to wind the world
Or took another Sunday.
I listen for my own pulse,
Hear only that familiar Victorian echo.
Am I still wound,
Driven by that same force?
Will the clouds slowly drift apart and away
As the world from a painted Eden?
Is there something in the pale blue, unsuspicious sky
To water down the clouds?
This certain Slant of light has driven my world to a dull doldrum.

It snowed just this morning.
Were the frozen drops His tear’s grown tired and cold?
Already the heat of the ground has melted them away
To puddles and wetness like dew.
Infinite white cattle graze on the other side of a barbwire fence,
On dead grass, beneath leafless trees
That never seemed more hopeless, hurting, and infinite.
Beneath the static clouds,
The same old decaying house
With broken windows and rotting doors,
And the same brown owl that lives in the attic
Take new meaning.
For what evolution can there be for clouds, except to storms?



© Copyright 2001 Kirk T Walker - All Rights Reserved
Kicking Kim
Member
since 2001-04-16
Posts 426
Cloud Cucko Land!
1 posted 2001-04-18 12:47 PM


Amazing poem I love the imagery, structure and language!  Interesting, intriguing and inspiring.

^*~Kicking Kim~*^

"Theres no posession, just obsession and growing depression"

rage
New Member
since 2001-04-05
Posts 3

2 posted 2001-04-18 04:57 PM


I can totaly relate the imagery almost forms a picture in not only my heart but my mind
NICE
at least in my opinion
Rage

jenni
Member
since 1999-09-11
Posts 478
Washington D.C.
3 posted 2001-04-20 06:06 PM


hi kirk--

i really enjoyed this, especially the ending...made me think of shelley's "ode to the west wind" (but 'darker,' of course, lol).

you have some great description here and nice images, and the tone is quite interesting.  i especially liked "As if someone forgot to wind the world / Or took another Sunday [....] Am I still wound, / Driven by that same force?"  and, like i said, your last line, too....quite nice.

a couple little points of confusion for me... i wasn't sure what to make of the 'Victorian echo'...why Victorian?  

were there really an infinite number of cows over the fence?  that must have been a LOT of cows, crammed in under the infinite leafless trees, lol.  seriously, though, i'd at least do away with the repetition, if not find another word entirely.  "infinite" is just so impossible, so vague, in a way (if you think about it), and it seemed out of place in the middle of what otherwise was a nicely drawn, specific setting (even if it was purely imaginary).  

"Will the clouds slowly drift apart and away
As the world from a painted Eden?"

aren't the clouds "ominous"?  and therefore, wouldn't their going away be a good thing?  unlike drifting away from a painted eden?

finally, i think you did such a great job in the poem as a whole showing the reader the "new meaning" of everything under the static clouds, that i don't think it was necessary to announce it in the second to last line.  

anyway, them's my thoughts.  great job!  thanks for posting this out here!

jenni

Kirk T Walker
Member
since 2000-01-13
Posts 357
Liberty, MO
4 posted 2001-04-20 06:40 PM


rage and kicking kim: thanks for your comments!

jenni:  The Victorian echo is a reference to the Victorian idea that God is letting the world run its course alone.  The repetition of key words in the poem is purposeful including "infinite".  This was based on a drive home I had one day.  Everything in it is true, including the fact that the cows WERE infinite (in the fact that there were too many to count and because they seemed to pasture all the way to the horizon they seemed to go on forever--which I would argue is the only conceivable infinity) and that the tree SEEMED MORE infinite than ever.  Basically this poem is all in one scene, but the idea is that the moment extends infinitely.  Here is one of those things that you can think about until your brain hurts: Only the present exists.  The past is but a memory and the future a prediction. We can never prove that either exists because neither is truly tangible.  I also wanted to emphasize that the cows weren't "crammed in".  I didn't say they were densely populating the field I said they were infinite.  Did anybody else picture them as crammed?  Please let me know if so, because I want to try to fix it (those poor animals, packed into the poem like sardines!)  Yes, any change in the seemingly static clouds is good, just as any purposeful change in the world is good.  I think you made a good point about the second to last line.  Thank you very much for your comments!

anonymous albert ?
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Elite
since 2001-03-23
Posts 2979

5 posted 2001-04-20 09:15 PM


amazin poem kirk
the imagery was like a paintin that i see in my mind..thanks for sharing..

...?

Zyell
Member
since 2000-07-28
Posts 121
USA
6 posted 2001-04-21 11:29 AM


you have some wondeful images, but it doesn't flow exactly right. It's like i think of the questions instead of a tale, and they're random, like oh, and this?  I get lost in the answers, not the picture. I like it, but it needs, in MHO, to be uniqued just
a tweek!

Zyell
Member
since 2000-07-28
Posts 121
USA
7 posted 2001-04-21 11:32 AM


this was soft and static.....a floating
of images ~ nicely done!

*S*

Z

Zyell
Member
since 2000-07-28
Posts 121
USA
8 posted 2001-04-21 11:33 AM


oops, I'm sorry, the phone rang, and my first reponse was not intended for your poem!
got all the heck screwed up~

sorry about that!

*S*

Z

roxane
Senior Member
since 1999-09-02
Posts 505
us
9 posted 2001-04-23 12:01 PM


i've read this a few times now, but knowing that it deserved more than i could give it the first few times, i've put off this critique until now, so i hope it's okay.


Static clouds, lazy and ominous, hang in unbudging form,
Painted a perfect fluffy white with grey bellies,
As if someone forgot to wind the world
Or took another Sunday.

wow.  this image is incredible.  i see a beautiful little tine world inside a snow globe, orange and tired, unmoving, with your static clouds floating overhead.  and by the sunday this, we can think of rebirth, of "god" recreating the world every week with no holiday, and today, he's taking another sunday like that first one, and the earth stops moving.  steps up the poem for some kind of epiphany.

I listen for my own pulse,
Hear only that familiar Victorian echo.
Am I still wound,
Driven by that same force?

this is just my interp, but i think the speaker is thinking about the austere victorians and their religion and thinking "okay, i feel god here, but is it that same one that drove all people?"  i'm probably way off here, i usually am, but oh well.  still a nice image.

Will the clouds slowly drift apart and away
As the world from a painted Eden?
Is there something in the pale blue, unsuspicious sky
To water down the clouds?
This certain Slant of light has driven my world to a dull doldrum.

a biblical reference?!  maybe there is hope for me yet.     

It snowed just this morning.
Were the frozen drops His tear’s grown tired and cold?
Already the heat of the ground has melted them away
To puddles and wetness like dew.

maybe god has been rejected and the earth doesn't even care.  i don't know if i like the god's tears/snow symbolism, but i will tell you that i went past it the first time without thinking it tired, but now after a few readings, i think you of all people could come up with something more original.

Infinite white cattle graze on the other side of a barbwire fence,
On dead grass, beneath leafless trees
That never seemed more hopeless, hurting, and infinite.

the most painful part of the poem:  cattle born for slaughter, feeding off nothingness, and i can feel a sharp pain in my chest for the speaker's almost destructive pain here.

Beneath the static clouds,
The same old decaying house
With broken windows and rotting doors,
And the same brown owl that lives in the attic
Take new meaning.

is god that brown owl?  you say it's the same old decaying house like it has always been decaying, like maybe those victorians were no better than us?  my interp again.

For what evolution can there be for clouds, except to storms?

i love this line, i love it.  don't ever explain it to anyone.  let everyone just enjoy what it means to them singularly.
this is a really great poem kirk.  thanks for sharing.

Kirk T Walker
Member
since 2000-01-13
Posts 357
Liberty, MO
10 posted 2001-04-23 01:20 PM


anonymous albert and zyell: Thanks for the comments.

roxane: Actually that was the idea I was aiming for on the Victorian reference.
Where you indicated a biblical reference (to Eden) that's correct.  Also I will go ahead and point out that there is also a specific reference made by the line "Slant of light" and see if anyone can tell me what it is a reference to (just for fun).
Thanks for pointing out the idea that percipitation as God's tears has been overdone.  I thought I might get away with it since it was snow and had a specific purpose, but you are probably right.
Wow! I am amazed that you got the God as an owl reference.  I have another poem which personifies God as an owl.  This basically stems from the superstitious idea of the owl (especially when seen in the daytime) as a sign of death. I actually had 2 experiences that almost make me believe this is true although I am generally very unsuperstious so I have played with the idea a little in my poetry.  You have explicated my poem very well and I will take all of your thoughtful critiue into consideration.  Thank you very much.

[This message has been edited by Kirk T Walker (edited 04-23-2001).]

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