The View From Here

[Peggy]

Dear Ladies,

so here is my poem. The view is from the window overlooking the inner, common garden of the house we live in. My abstract idea was "serenity". So here it goes:

The View from Here

The handrail, the brick wall,
the fire lillies, the thujas,
the smoothly whistling organ
and the big trees at the back,

they assemble
into horizontal, parallel lines.
This I haven’t noticed
till the month

when I sat alone
at the small table with two chairs
--- where we usually drink
our morning coffees and evening wines ---

and often listened
to the muffled hullabaloo
of the children next door
or the aching silence of the moon.

And sometimes I feared
that the lines lash up
into waves
and will wash me away.

I don't know how
it happened, but
those moments, hours, days and weeks
trickled down and densed up

into a keel.
So I began
to feel
the ease
of
being.

And now,
when I gaze out,
I have certainty
that parallel lines meet at infinity.

[Dee]

The View from Here

The handrail, the brick wall,
the fire lillies, the thujas,
the smoothly whistling organ
and the big trees at the back,

they assemble
into horizontal, parallel lines.
This I haven’t noticed
till the month

when I sat alone
at the small table with two chairs
--- where we usually drink
our morning coffees and evening wines ---

and often listened
to the muffled hullabaloo
of the children next door
or the aching silence of the moon.

And sometimes I feared
that the lines lash up
into waves
and will wash me away.

I have been privileged to have seen this poem in its earlier draft and now appreciate the final results of crafting this little gem.

In the opening description of the garden landscape I particularly enjoy the line "smoothly whistling organ" with its triple meaning. Organ - as a not commonly used English word for lilac, but also meaning a self contained organism, and the musical instrument, all combined into one powerful image.

The line/verse break "till the month" is brilliant in its urgent hook: we must find out what happened in that month, and also makes "the month" super important.

We immediately find out that "the month" was spent alone in a space normally occupied by two, in sadness ("the aching silence of the moon" - what a fabulous image) and contemplation. The observed parallel lines might reflect on a relationship when two people can't connect properly.

The next verse reveals the inner turmoil this revelation causes, and this might be my favourite part of the poem: the peaceful but lonely lines of the garden suddenly becoming animated and ominous, threatening to pull the poet under.

This brings on the turning point in the poem.


I don't know how
it happened, but
those moments, hours, days and weeks
trickled down and densed up

into a keel.
So I began
to feel
the ease
of
being.

A fabulous image of time "densing up" into a keel, on a boat trying to navigate the treacherous waves of revelation described previously.

I love how this is also shown in the suddenly "densed up" short lines as well, and the first-glance-contrast of the image described as an "ease of being". Of course, with a solid, well functioning keel the boat can sail easily.

So we realise this month of contemplation in solitude has brought on tremendous positive change in the poet, finding her inner strength and settling calm.

And now,
when I gaze out,
I have certainty
that parallel lines meet at infinity.

We are led back to the image of the garden again, the parallel lines, and what that symbolism might mean to this specific relationship, or human connections in more general. And whilst previously this was unsettling, this is no longer the case. The belief that the lines meet eventually, at infinity, is enough for our poet to settle her mind. There is no urgency, no sadness, just peace.

I'm delighted you've shared this lovely poem here with us, Mz D. And I'm so happy these Poetry courses have been such a fun ride for you too. It's been brilliant to do them together!

Now we must keep going!

[Peggy]

There are only 2 slight points where I always get stuck when reading. The first is the word pandemic and the second is the word meaning, both are too concrete for me. I would have been more puzzled if meaning is not named in the poem but I - as a reader – have to „understand” it from the whole of the poem.

The ‘pandemic’ is absolutely staying. I know it might feel overload right now, because this crisis dominates our lives, but looking back from a few years’ perspective, this word will give the poem its context. And it’s important to have that context for me, otherwise why would I be choirless?
I can accept what you write about "pandemic" staying. How interesting that I have just finished a Hungarian book that also was written during that period and the author reflects to readers reading now or later Well-well, who is getting what for Christmas

The word ‘meaning’... yes, I see your point there. To ‘search for meaning’ is quite a cliché. I will think about that. Thank you.

[Dee]

Hmmm, I’m intrigued!

[Peggy]

The View from Here

The handrail, the brick wall,
the fire lillies, the thujas,
the smoothly whistling organ
and the big trees at the back,

they assemble
into horizontal, parallel lines.
This I haven’t noticed
till the month

when I sat alone
at the small table with two chairs
--- where we usually drink
our morning coffees and evening wines ---

and often listened
to the muffled hullabaloo
of the children next door
or the aching silence of the moon.

And sometimes I feared
that the lines lash up
into waves
and will wash me away.

I have been privileged to have seen this poem in its earlier draft and now appreciate the final results of crafting this little gem.

In the opening description of the garden landscape I particularly enjoy the line "smoothly whistling organ" with its triple meaning. Organ - as a not commonly used English word for lilac, but also meaning a self contained organism, and the musical instrument, all combined into one powerful image.

The line/verse break "till the month" is brilliant in its urgent hook: we must find out what happened in that month, and also makes "the month" super important.

We immediately find out that "the month" was spent alone in a space normally occupied by two, in sadness ("the aching silence of the moon" - what a fabulous image) and contemplation. The observed parallel lines might reflect on a relationship when two people can't connect properly.

The next verse reveals the inner turmoil this revelation causes, and this might be my favourite part of the poem: the peaceful but lonely lines of the garden suddenly becoming animated and ominous, threatening to pull the poet under.

This brings on the turning point in the poem.


I don't know how
it happened, but
those moments, hours, days and weeks
trickled down and densed up

into a keel.
So I began
to feel
the ease
of
being.

A fabulous image of time "densing up" into a keel, on a boat trying to navigate the treacherous waves of revelation described previously.

I love how this is also shown in the suddenly "densed up" short lines as well, and the first-glance-contrast of the image described as an "ease of being". Of course, with a solid, well functioning keel the boat can sail easily.

So we realise this month of contemplation in solitude has brought on tremendous positive change in the poet, finding her inner strength and settling calm.

And now,
when I gaze out,
I have certainty
that parallel lines meet at infinity.

We are led back to the image of the garden again, the parallel lines, and what that symbolism might mean to this specific relationship, or human connections in more general. And whilst previously this was unsettling, this is no longer the case. The belief that the lines meet eventually, at infinity, is enough for our poet to settle her mind. There is no urgency, no sadness, just peace.

I'm delighted you've shared this lovely poem here with us, Mz D. And I'm so happy these Poetry courses have been such a fun ride for you too. It's been brilliant to do them together!

Now we must keep going!

Dear Dee, I am so utterly grateful to you for inviting me to those courses, for giving me your time and thoughts in the course of writing and now for this detailed review ! The heart of the poet is full of joy when such a reader gives reflections who fully understands, captures and feels the poetic "intention" and "state of mind". Thank you for drawing my attention that "organ" is rarely used in contemporary English - I was not aware but I do not actually mind . I find your thoughts on the "parallels" fascinating and your wording marvellous! I meant to refer to the Order of Nature by them on the first place - and if one is capable of noticing it and relying on it is soothing (and by the end of the poem the poet does get to this state)-, but undoubtedly in a faint (?) way this specific relationship and human connections in more general can also be summoned here.
And I agree, we must keep going ! (but please, draw my attention to the next availabe course as I am hopeless to notice myself...)

[Dee]

I find your thoughts on the "parallels" fascinating and your wording marvellous! I meant to refer to the Order of Nature by them on the first place - and if one is capable of noticing it and relying on it is soothing (and by the end of the poem the poet does get to this state)-, but undoubtedly in a faint (?) way this specific relationship and human connections in more general can also be summoned here.

That’s so interesting to me, how differently we can interpret the same images, lines of poetry. It’s fascinating to find out the original thoughts behind the observation of the parallel lines.

And I agree, we must keep going ! (but please, draw my attention to the next availabe course as I am hopeless to notice myself...)

Well, I don’t think there’s another poetry writing course coming up in Future Learn, so we will just have to create our own writing prompts and exercises.

The Kate Clanchy book is absolutely marvellous, we could use that perhaps?

[Moonchime]

Review of Peggy's The View From Here.

The overall feeling I get from the poem is one of calm revelation – brought to light through the gradual and increasing awareness of a familiar view in which is discovered the very core of being itself.
At first we start with the literal observation of the things which are in the communal garden; a list of the objects/plants that share this space. A view you have observed often, but failed to notice the parallel lines until, that is, you sat alone at the table for two. The table that you regularly sit at, morning and evening is the place from which your revelation begins, in the month you were alone.
You describe them as “assembling” in parallel lines – suggesting that this not a chance arrangement but something which they have chosen. The use of the word parallel suggests that all these lines are definitively separate and self-contained.
In the fourth verse you create an image of the surrounding muffled noise of daily life around you while, far away from the earth, the moon hangs still in the sky; a symbol of man’s longing and search for knowledge, yielding nothing but silence – aching silence. I think the word “aching” is an excellent choice because it depicts so perfectly the yearning of the human heart.
Then in the following verse the mood takes a turn and becomes more alarming as we are somewhat discomforted by the feeling of being overwhelmed by the lines that “lash” up into waves that have the power to wash you away. The use of the word “lash” suggests a force which is not easily resisted – a force that has the power to immerse you – to take you to another plane of existence; to become lost in the whole.
As we are led on through the verses we learn that all those meditative moments have slowly “trickled” into something much more dense; gradually they have metamorphosed from something like water that “trickles” into something strong and powerful that is the very backbone of your existence – the “keel” of who you are; the settling into your own skin. Is it that now you are centred in yourself – alone or in company.
The last verse powerfully sets out the calm place you have come to inhabit and the assurance you feel that despite the apparent separation of things, we are all integral parts of the same whole and with that understanding comes peace and belonging.
I very much enjoyed this lyrical poem Peggy – it has a lovely flow through it as you move between the verses leading from one image to the next. I can see that you have thought carefully about line breaks and the effect of words standing alone for emphasis as they do in the penultimate verse. Very well done Mz Peggy.

PS - I didn't mention the "smoothly whistling organ" because I couldn't work out what it referred to - I just had a picture of a musical organ which seemed a bit unlikely but possible!! Anyway when I finished writing my review I read Dee's and found the answer - I never knew about that name for Lilac.

[Lori]

Dear Ladies,

so here is my poem. The view is from the window overlooking the inner, common garden of the house we live in. My abstract idea was "serenity". So here it goes:

The View from Here

The handrail, the brick wall,
the fire lillies, the thujas,
the smoothly whistling organ
and the big trees at the back,

they assemble
into horizontal, parallel lines.
This I haven’t noticed
till the month

when I sat alone
at the small table with two chairs
--- where we usually drink
our morning coffees and evening wines ---

and often listened
to the muffled hullabaloo
of the children next door
or the aching silence of the moon.

And sometimes I feared
that the lines lash up
into waves
and will wash me away.

I don't know how
it happened, but
those moments, hours, days and weeks
trickled down and densed up

into a keel.
So I began
to feel
the ease
of
being.

And now,
when I gaze out,
I have certainty
that parallel lines meet at infinity.

I so enjoyed this piece, Mz. Peggy! The description of the garden captured me from the get-go as I wasn't familiar with a couple plants of which you spoke, and I like that. I like mystery immediately at the gate. And the whistling organ being lilacs? I love the word play here. Plus, lilacs are one of my favorite plants - my wedding was full of cream-colored flowers, greenery, and lilacs.

The poet sees with new eyes what used to feel commonplace. The sounds from children next door. The moon. I also loved the word "aching" used here. How many human souls look up from their sorrow and see this constant? At any given time, the moon is somehow personified...and in this place and at this time it is aching, as is the heart of the isolated writer. A month has passed. Your depiction of the simple morning coffee and evening wine served to span the unspoken - all those little things that make up a moment, day, year, and life with another person walking the world beside you.

I don't know how
it happened, but
those moments, hours, days and weeks
trickled down and densed up

into a keel.
So I began
to feel
the ease
of
being.

"I don't know how it happened" brings a simple spoken honesty to this section. Beautifully written depiction of the amalgam that took place as time passed, leading to a calmer more manageable place. When I read the word "keel", for me it initially could have been interpreted two ways: As a verb where everything is upended and therefore released or as a noun where there is a solidifying into a stable base of strength. I loved the possibilities there and both worked for me. I also like the shortening of the lines, emphasizing the metamorphosis.

Then, of course, the last line speaks of a deeper understanding of life and the really powerful mindset the poet has donned with "certainty". For me, I also liked the repeated use of parallel lines which, when used regarding humans, can depict the separateness we truly experience from birth to death while simultaneously existing alongside other humans. Our lines seem to intersect and we intertwine deeply on so many levels, yet we walk this earth oddly alone on the face of it. The concept of, "Who am I without you?" or "Who am I outside of these constructs I've fashioned?" in these moments of being alone (and in a month of emotional truths, hardships, and development for the poet) are revealing and wrought with growth potential.

I very much love this piece, Mz. D! Thank you for sharing and thank you for diving into the Harbour where the waves ebb and flow, hopefully into "infinity"!!

[Peggy]

Dear Kathy and Susan, I am so deeply moved that both of you took the time and the effort to wade into my poem and thoroughly share your thoughts about it ! I feel "understood" and it gives me encouragement to go on with writing. It is quite edifying though what unexpected traps writing in English - that is a foreign language for me - can hide! I was convinced that "organ" is a commonly used word .

I will write a review on the poem of both of you but it might take some time, especially that my beloved Dee has started this new "put" project and I have a quarter of a poem in the pipeline.

As for the Harbour, I would not call it a "diving" yet - you know how I am with waves and the fear of being washed away - but I have PUT my toe in and I am very excited to start to play with such lovely Mermaids. Thank you for your kindness and hospitality!

[Peggy]

In my poem I used the view onto my back garden with "Fear" as my abstract noun - although to be honest I couldn't stop wandering into Loss and Grief - although they're all connected so I stuck with it.

The View from Here

The garden shimmers
in brittle heat,
while empty chairs full of ghosts
face the sun.

A black veil guards blueberries
against hidden birds, like the Spectre
of Fear that pads
into my room at night

and settles like a jealous lover,
while a thistle fairy floats
into a spider’s web,
a dance captured, crafted

for flight, not fight, only singing
on summer’s sighs.
A cautious caterpillar hiccoughs
along the wall, wondering

if it will ever fly,
and the grass worries
itself brown in the sun’s glare, unflinching
as the mirror that bares
the truth of years.


KK

Dear Kathy, that is quite a piece! How daring, how surreal, how unnerving with full of surprises and hidden tension! Seemingly hardly anything "happens" in the poem, everything is "everyday" and "simple": we see a garden, empty chairs, some blueberries, a room at night, but so much is going on down, beneath filled with fearfulness anxiety and sadness.

I love the phrase "brittle heat", "singing on summer's sighs" (how painful and sad, especially with the wonderful rhyming with "flight," and "fight"). My absolute favourite is "the grass worries/ itself brown" !

The poem is full of suspence, danger is lurking all around: ghosts, hidden birds and even the black veil - that is protecting though the blueberries - is "like the Spectre/ of Fear" , tha fairy is captured in the spider web and the caterpillar cannot be sure "if it will ever fly". The atmosphere is numb and frozen.

Is the grass afraid of the passing of time? (By worrying about the inevitable this process is even faster.) Is this that is so fearful throughout the poem? That there were people who are not alive any more (ghosts)? The "black veil" gives me the idea of mourning, summer sighs, the fairy and the caterpillar are also limited in their abilities and so are "declining". The truth is that everything will have and end. In the very powerful ending of the poem, we have to look in the mirror and notice that our face is getting old too and soon our chair will also be empty.... etc

[Moonchime]

Thank you so much Mz Peggy for reviewing my poem - I totally get how time-consuming it can be, so it is much appreciated. It is always a great relief to find that others have grasped the essence of what you have written and in writing about it have taken it to a new level of being, adding their own emphases and interpretations.

Is the grass afraid of the passing of time? (By worrying about the inevitable this process is even faster.) Is this that is so fearful throughout the poem? That there were people who are not alive any more (ghosts)? The "black veil" gives me the idea of mourning,

I think the "black veil" works wonderfully as a sign of mourning as well as the symbol of fear that the blueberries will get eaten by the birds. It was quite a big black net so looked like a dark phantom in the garden - hence the "spectre" it becomes. It hopefully works on several levels.

In the very powerful ending of the poem, we have to look in the mirror and notice that our face is getting old too and soon our chair will also be empty.... etc[/color]

I hadn't thought about the emptiness of the chair we might occupy - but of the course that is a great link to the start of the poem and is true to the message of change, the passing of time and the need to fulfil our potential before it is too late!

Thank you again for your lovely insight and may I say, I don't think you need to worry about being "new" anymore!

[Peggy]

Thank you so much Mz Peggy for reviewing my poem - I totally get how time-consuming it can be, so it is much appreciated. It is always a great relief to find that others have grasped the essence of what you have written and in writing about it have taken it to a new level of being, adding their own emphases and interpretations.

Is the grass afraid of the passing of time? (By worrying about the inevitable this process is even faster.) Is this that is so fearful throughout the poem? That there were people who are not alive any more (ghosts)? The "black veil" gives me the idea of mourning,

I think the "black veil" works wonderfully as a sign of mourning as well as the symbol of fear that the blueberries will get eaten by the birds. It was quite a big black net so looked like a dark phantom in the garden - hence the "spectre" it becomes. It hopefully works on several levels.

In the very powerful ending of the poem, we have to look in the mirror and notice that our face is getting old too and soon our chair will also be empty.... etc[/color]

I hadn't thought about the emptiness of the chair we might occupy - but of the course that is a great link to the start of the poem and is true to the message of change, the passing of time and the need to fulfil our potential before it is too late!

Thank you again for your lovely insight and may I say, I don't think you need to worry about being "new" anymore!

Dear Kathy, I am happy that you feel understood and also that you liked my insight with the empty chair This idea came to me only in the very end, when I waded deeper and deeper into your text and I found it fascinating that this way we are looped back to the beginning. The fact that it was not intentional on your behalf I find even more fascinating as it gives me the feeling that poems can have a "self-organizing" ability/nature.

As for being new, how interesting that dear Dee texted me the same the other day. But as I have no idea how to cancel the sign, it's a proof that I am still new, one with "green ears" as we say it in Hungarian .