Cinderella river
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By littleditty
- 5154 reads
Beauty weaves from ugly threads
and back again to mud.
Who would have thought clay is oh so fine
knowing sand is oh so coarse?
Mining for gold is a not a pan full of guilt
and a pan full of silt. This is an ancient guild,
heading upriver to lowlands
where chalk streams rock spring,
reminding us
of where we were just now,
not of where we’ve been,
wading the watercress beds,
tangling our ankles. We shouldn’t have been there
then. But now, when the catkins flower
and seedpods on top sail downriver, we can remark
on how this one shakes and this one shivers,
spinners crazed, the fluff dancers dizzle,
the wind to them a blur of noise – and of those
that glide, awe and grace on their silvery tipped backs of down -
it is time, to tell of The Mimram and The Bean,
reclaim all vocabulary that had run dry.
When it is too early, hunger-stone warnings
sing gravel voiced about poverty and disease – but
when our Cinderella rivers bloom,
the clearest train of thought flows through the chalk walkways,
receding inwards or moving on,
making the path of least resistance seem easy.
Is it then we should talk of slicing rock, of mud; of settling?
For what damage could these new words do
if not used before the gush of rain?
The clay beds lift with the slightest ripple,
the catkin are surrounded, like new-born chicks tugged under.
Flocculation weighs too much,
that sticky grip of clay ancestor, efficient as pike.
There may be time later, when spring rivers run dry in Summer
to discuss the efficiency of the hexagon, and its resistance.
Reaching an equilibrium early,
when there is so much left to say before the fall,
is the unsettled matter, and the rock.
Sitting by the river, panning the silt,
when it is time to say nothing at all.
5/2020
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hrHNazNfORU
Rivers Run
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Comments
All so wonderful. Love gravel
All so wonderful. Love gravel voices and dry vocabulary and efficient pike and clay ancestors. Loved all of it. Rachel :)
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There is so much to take in with one reading.
I may well come back with more to say on this delicious piece when I've had time to digest the delicate flavours.
Lovely!
Ed
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I'm back :)
There seems to be some very good poems on here recently, but I have to say this is one of the best poems I have ever read on here. If it doesn't make poem of the month there's no justice.
Anyway, that aside, what struck me is the picture you paint here. I don't know where you live, but this poem shouts South Downs very loudly to me. I spend many holidays with my cousins in West Sussex as a kid and later lived in West Berkshire close to the Wessex Downs and spent a lot of my leasure time in the counties around there. Crystal clear chalk streams where I walked and the wild watercress (probably escaped from somewhere) that grew in the streams around Watership Down and those areas. It all came back to me when I read your words.
The sparking gravel streams and the naughty pike that snaffled duckings and pinched my fish as I reeled it in. It all was there. Maybe the reason I like this poem so much is because of all these things, but even so, there is no doubting, this is a wonderful exquisitely worded poem.
Thanks
Ed
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Ah The River Lea, that explains the Cinderella bit.
Certainly the Lea goes through a number of changes. She has a tough time before she hooks up with big Daddy Thames
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I love the idea of beauty
I love the idea of beauty being weaved from ugly threads, it kind of sums up the harshness of nature.
There's some wonderful lines in your poem that pay homage to the place you describe, even though I've never been there.
Definitely a class A poem.
Jenny.
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I love this, didn't know
I love this, didn't know watercress beds still existed :
"wading the watercress beds,
tangling our ankles"
What does "fluff dancers dizzle" mean? I love how it sounds! Dizzle is a brilliant word I have not read before, suggested a mixture of dazzle and dizzy?
"of those that glide, awe and grace on their silvery tipped backs of down" made me think of the careful balancing of baby waterbirds. Love "awe and grace"
"sticky grip of clay ancestor" is chilling
A vivid, involving description of place, really enjoyed the sense of changing ground and light and water
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Hi littleditty. A lovely
Hi littleditty. A lovely thoughtful poem. It really put me in touch with the spirit of spring renewal. It flows like those chalk streams. I used to visit the Chilterns a lot when we lived in North London. Stokenchurch was a popular hang out, and a circular walk around there. I don't remember the names, but I remember a picnic in a particularly grassy field. The only Lea I knew was the industrial estate in Stratford where I did some contract driving. Thanks for jogging these memories with your lovely poem and the discussion after.
Parson Thru
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I haven't been back, but I
I haven't been back, but I think they built most of that on the thriving industrial estate.
Parson Thru
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I have been back to read this
I have been back to read this wonderful poem a number of times for the light and shade in its imagery and metaphor, and for how it reads as if it is full of secrets. It is our Facebook and Twitter Pick of the Day. Please do share if you like it too.
littleditty - I liked the pike so chose this picture from pixabay. Please feel free to change it though.
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