8 June 2010

Poem

Webs
Spider-like we weave our webs -
Criss-crossed connections
Past to present to future to
Memory to friend to
Birth to death to
Work to home to
Hope to dream -
The patterns of love and family life
All intricately and almost invisibly linked
Bejewelled by dewdrops
Glinting in a new day's honey light
Then like concealed spiders
We assess our workmanship
Self-assured and certain
In the midst of life
Believing these gossamer nets will endure
But they never do
Later
Raggedy threads hang limply
Like Miss Havisham's wedding veil
While inheritors sense the spaces
Where we once wove our lives.

9 comments:

  1. Elizabeth6:59 pm

    Beautiful, YP. Thank you for sharing this special piece of writing. The image you have found to accompany it is stunning, too. x

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  2. Elizabeth7:01 pm

    Is the photograph one of the ones you have found in your family boxes?

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  3. ELIZABETH Thank you. Although I allude to arachnid behaviour in the poem, I am not actually a spider! The photo was pinched from Google Images. However, you are right to think that this poem was inspired by all this sorting through family boxes I have been doing.

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  4. If I may be so bold...

    Would prefer a metaphor for the havisham line 'Raggedy threads hang haversham' or something.

    Also tighter images without the grammatically correct articles and adjuncts- 'love patterns, family life all'

    Gossamer nets juxtaposed with net curtains might be a nice turn of phrase too, considering the subject matter.

    Just a thought...

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  5. J.R.LEAVIS-BOOTH Thanks for your response. I appreciate your boldness. Meaning is everything or else we're just playing word games like T.S.Eliot. Rest assured I chose each word deliberately. The grammatical correctness of the eighth line was to be like a sudden log jam after the cascade of the previous six lines. Wedding veils might also be like gossamer nets - that's how the image surfaced. Originally, I stupidly mis-spelt the Dickensian lady's name so thanks for unwiitingly correcting me.

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  6. Your very enjoyable poem went right along with my morning Bible reading today: Ecclesiastes chapters 1 through 4. Uncanny!

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  7. RHYMIE "All go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again." Yes. I can hear the echoes.

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  8. A very nice piece indeed. I guess old photos and stories have that effect.

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  9. I'd prefer to be Richard Hoggart or Terry Eagleton, thanks.


    My typo of Havisham was deliberate, also...

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Mr Pudding welcomes all genuine comments - even those with which he disagrees. However, puerile or abusive comments from anonymous contributors will continue to be given the short shrift they deserve. Any spam comments that get through Google/Blogger defences will also be quickly deleted.