Gate by Span

I agree - c'est awesome. A really good first line, too. My only niggle - you use 'proof' twice. Is that a problem? Or could one of them be replaced with something else?

This is really fantastic. The final stanza is absolute gold: genuinely lyrical and beautiful. Top draw, Han. Is there a missing word: sneaks up "on" people. And whats the deal with the word - "hgh" - it's doing nothing for me. This has got to be in my top three Span poems ever. Still think it could do with a trim - I found a few weaker lines in the middle three stanzas. Joe

I thought 'hgh' was a great onomatopaeic [sic] word for the train-like huffing of joggers. I understand why someone might legitimately find it a bit whimsical - I'd just like to register my approval of it, that's all.

I'm gonna be severe, to counterbalance all this easy-flowing love, and because this is very good, and it is easy to be severe with things that are very good. First of all the latter half of the first stanza is lovely, but seems out of place to me. This is the beginning of the poem, and the whimsical sitting down to arts and crafts seems more like an ending. As a general criticism of Span's poetry, I think there are perhaps a few too many instances of childlike N playing solitary games. I find myself, when I read a new poem, hoping that it will avoid going this way. The second stanza feels like it is a great sequence of images that has not quite finished being cut from the stone. There are perhaps too many subclauses - 'which' followed by 'whose' then 'that'. I am not sure I follow the latter half at all. Are the 'cooked chickens' the old ladies and the 'discs of dark meat' their arses, which are making prints on the bed, which is visible in the mirror? I had to go backwards to even get that far. I like stanza three a lot, but am confused by the 'bin hocking phlegm'. Four is fine, except I'm not sure about making mountains out of peas *while* eating TV dinners off one another's knees - the 'while' seems to imply multi-tasking, when the two things are more interconnected. Seems you sould have the TV dinners idea first - 'eat TV dinners off one another's knees and make mountains out of the peas." Really nice image at the end in the fifth stanza, but does the 'and' is confusing in the first few lines. Does the indie kid write songs about the junkyards *and* the carpet stains or are the carpet stains, along with the kitchen sinks, a feature of the junkyard? Normally, the former would seem obvious, but in a poem where you play about with the natural positions of things so much, it isn't so clear. A well placed comma might do the trick. I'm with Tim on 'hgh'. Hope that is, in some way, useful, and doesn't come across as mean-spirited.

Fervent apologies for my late commentary on this, Lady Span. I've had a glance down, and I'd thumbs-up most of the suggestions so far. Here's my two penneth in square brackets. By the way, I think it's rather great, in case my comments seem vivisectionist. Again and again I discover that I love you as the joggers hgh past me like coal trains. [I'm on the YES team for "hgh" by the way] I am a pin prick on the palm of the Metro [I'm not so sure about this though. It could be a personal aversion to the "I am an ass in the crack of humanity" phrasing. I am grateful that the subject was the Metro and not an abstract idea. Not sure what exactly I would change it to. Perhaps I would let it stand.] and follow the coastline looking out for fissures in the egg earth where I can sit and make a proof satchel out of a ballpoint and printer paper. In Fenham, old ladies align engagement rings with [couple of weak line breaks here...] their coat buttons and imagine dressing their thin flanks in front of a mirror which shows a bed whose [...and here. Consider ending them a little earlier/later?] sheets are marked with the print of discs of dark meat that hang from the pelvic bones of cooked chickens. In Heaton there are weeks that only make the sound of a cheek puckering, and shopping baskets which creak with the proof of living. The barb wire [agree about it being barbed, not barb, unless a ref to Pamela Anderson's masterwork]walkway leads out [out/our? Strange phrasing]love to a chip shop burning and a bin hocking phlegm [I know what you mean by the hocking of phlegm, if that's what JC was confused about. Here are you referring to the bin spilling its contents?]into the Ouseburn, like an old Russian who sneaks up people saying see how slowly you love the thick brown schmaltz of winter. Walker finds a way to keep its mates close, and its chavas [chav deviant, right? I always spelt it charvers, but that's nitpicking - regional variations, what] with their children make mountains out of peas while eating TV dinners off one anothers [apostrophe? Tricky one to call] knees, and bedtime with its lights out means we cant [apostrophe] remember how to find one another in the dark. . Theres an indie [I'd lose 'indie', just because nowadays the term has been so appropriated it makes for cringing - unless that was deliberately tonuge in cheek?] kid in Pallion who writes songs about the junk yards with their piles of kitchen sinks and the carpet stains which say something about the way we are moving , but since it might be ink or blood or the remains of a secret [since hwat might be ink or blood? the carpet stains? In that case, surely 'they', not 'it'] we don't speak, we let the trains keep clacking like a gate not quite closing on a mass of half sleeping idiots. [killer last line] What reckon you Span? I freely invite scorn and argument on this. Top gun. K x

Good day! I am horrified that it has taken me so long to reply to this thread and apologise. I dont know about anyone else but sometimes I need a wee while to digest feedback, not cos I disagree but because I myself cannot see the wood for the trees. Now I see the wood and the trees and really realy appreciate the feedback. Mark, thanks for the flag up. I have nver in my life been called a wonder. Turns out Newcastle is a veritable treasure chest of boundaries. It is such an interesting city and it is growing on me all the time. I dont think there are many cities that can make saying 'dont worry about it' sound like affection. Hey Rokkitnite, yerp I looked at the doubel use of the word proof and for the life of me cannot think of an alternative. Do you think I can get away with keeping it? Spack, cheers my lovely. I added in the word 'on' and now it makes more sense. I do so enjoy skipping out words but not much point if it does not make sense. I afraid I decided to keep 'hgh', it sounds better when read out loud and for me it makes the sound of a jogger coal train. Mr Cade, your comments are as ever exceptionally insightful and very welcome. I appreciate the point out about the craft thing, something I am aware of and keep in check as much as possible, however in this case I feel it is justified. The second stanza is a huge tangle. I cannot unknot it from its 'whose' and 'which' I am going to think properly about what the images mean cos to be hoenst I have no idea and cannot explain. I did not mean for the discs of dark meat to be the print of old ladies bottoms, but am happy for it to read as that and actually quite like it. I meant for the print to simply be like the discs of dark meat that hang off chickens and to be honest just liked the way the language sounds. I will endeavour to find a straight piece of string. Going to keep the muti tasking peas, knees thing. The rhyme bothers me slightly but I do not lke the spreading out of the two actions. I am confused about what you mean with the comma in stanza five. The indie kid writes songs about the kitchen sinks and the carpet stains which are both features of the junk yard. If you get a chance to read this and have a second, where should I put the comma? I am terrible with punctuation and have no idea at all. Thank you Emma2004, I am very pleased if I have managed to deal with the objective correlative, although am not quite sure what that means. I think the sound does serve my purposes. I remain unconvinced that what I feel in relation to these images matters. I just liked the sound of the words and the things it does. Thank you for pointing out the barb/barbed thing, all changed. And as for the Bright Eyed lovely, I thank you ever so for the edit. I have tried some edits and am going to do some more. Have hopefully removed the Pamela Anderson reference and have tried to make the line breaks better but am quite unsure as to where they really go in this poem. Yes I did mean the bin spillling its contents as if its hocking phlegm and glad it halfway works as an image. Yes chavas here are like chavs. Many geordies that I have spoken to insist upon the origin of the word chav being a Newcastle thing and derived from chava. I dont think I have spelt it right though. Funny how things like that are regional. Where I come from they are called Barrys. Changed the 'it' to 'they' in stanza five and hope it is clearer that I mean the carpet stains. Really grateful or you pointing out the indie kid thing. I was being tongue in cheek but I have decided that it sounds somehow smug and that far in to the poem do not want a reader to cringe. Actually I dont ever want someone to cringe reading my poems but I suspect these things happen. Everyone has different trigger points, mine when reading are usually around the words 'soul' and 'heart'. Phew that was a long response, sorry! And once again thank you thank you thank you. Span x