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Lifting Meadow Dirt
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Lifting Meadow Dirt |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855
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The man, greyed by his years, lifted his clean shovel from its chalk-lined place within the low workshed. His breath was smoke to-day without cigarette. His hands as icing statues within cotton gloves. The shovel was a timeline. The blade of it notched up by years of trenches dug to keep the rain in place. He would feel a sorrow whenever sharp stone bit and broke a shovel tooth across its cold tongue. He would sense the handle smoothing with each strike, digging through the earth, hacking mountain roots. Some stones, big as plates, would balance on the blade and fall apart as hard-packed dirt as they hit the ground. Roots as strange as hands twisting through the loam. Exposing husk-like digits in brown veins made of wood. He would create standing pools through the sheer force of his work. He was glad to know he could make the rain fill empty eyes. To-day the blade would suit a different purpose in the meadow. Working through the autumn hours he would level out the soil. He would break up rotting roots of a tree too old and near the line of his straight trenches. If they dammed the rain's quick way the meadow would flood over with the storms of spring and summer. He would have to wake with towels, sweep out water through his door. He missed her most when sun's first light pricked its way across his eyelids. To stay this warm these days took layers when once it took only her presence. He stumbled on the path, used the shovel as a cane. Jabbing lines into the earth to help sustain his weight. When he got back from his work he would clean the shovel free of mud and dirt and scars and sun, and the dust's fragility. I know it's over. |
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Marshalzu 
since 2001-02-15
Posts 2681Lurking |
Wow this is just absolutely wonderful, I just loved your use of language to create such vivid imagery. The entire poem was a pleasure to read thanks for sharing  Andrew |
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Anvrill Senior Member
since 2002-06-21
Posts 710in the interzone now |
This entire thing just aches.... But it's so resolved as well. Oh, Mikhail... *melt* You are...beyond words. Your poetry is magic, baby. remember the sound |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855 |
Thank you, Andrew, for the read and the reply. Lori... *kiss* You always make me feel good. Thank you for that. Mikhail |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Mike..this ached in me...so tenderly you touched of human beauty. Thank you!  |
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Local Parasite
since 2001-11-05
Posts 2527Transylconia, Winnipeg |
Somehow I feel groggy and miserable today and this poem really made that feeling of grog and misery come alive. The length of your description fits well the state of mind of your character, the weight of his task filling his life, the importance all the importance in the world to him as the one he once loved is now gone. I've written something on the same topic myself, and I think it's a topic that yet deserves more attention. So many write of love and loss, and far too often is daily compensation overlooked. The truest sadness of loss is found in the mundane. Beautiful work, Mike. I read this with fascination and wonder, and at the end, you absolutely pounced on me. I love when that happens. Oh, and thanks for posting a long one.  Parasite "Faith" means the will to avoid knowing what is true. |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855 |
Thank you, Martie. LP, glad you found something of worth in this poem. I wasn't trying to accentuate grog and misery. Rather, it's more about keeping on, even in the face of despair. When I used to live in New Hampshire, and go camping in Maine, there'd be times when I'd be chopping wood and the world would be only about existing in the moment of that task. You feel both part of the world and erased from it at the same time. Oh, and glad you liked the length of this one. Looking back now, I have to say, you were right. "Mirror" sucked. |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855 |
As a P.S., what is your poem on the same topic called? I'd love to read it. E-mail it to me, k? I know it's over. |
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fractal007 Senior Member
since 2000-06-01
Posts 1958 |
Nice poem. The description flows well in this one and your style is a pleasant deviation from that of your other works I've read. "If my fate is to die, I must simply laugh" |
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Ratleader
since 2003-01-23
Posts 7026Visiting Earth on a Guest Pass |
If this by some chance isn't the best poem I have read on this site -- any forum, any time -- I can't remember what the other one was. Hat's off to you on this one, my friend. You really socked it. ~~(¸¸¸¸ºº> ~~(¸¸¸¸ºº> ~~(¸¸ ¸¸ºº> ~~~(¸¸ER¸¸ºº> |
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Riley
since 2002-07-18
Posts 1038in the pouring rain |
What a way to start the morning, nice job...I loved the description in it. This was my fav. part quote: Loved it. Riley Morning mist clings to my face, and my soul opens up to you...... |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855 |
Thank you both. Seriously. |
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