This Poem was Submitted By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2003-11-18 11:18:38 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
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Border Clash
(Under the careful eye of the Hawk)
Northward we run
Through and away from
Fast and sleek in the Maroon coupe -
The stark black earth, naked, somber as
Wild turkeys stalk row upon row of once tall corn
Past the last half acre of brown beans
Over a modest river bridged long ago
Iowa, your silo studded horizon mesmerizes
While November, hung-over
Pregnant with her first snow, threatens.
On toward home.
How fine, how proud, how safe that first broad lake
This shallow valley, her wooded hills make us feel.
The shame, with the cloud deck, lifts slightly.
Gold scarves wave to an old wind, an old friend.
The blood of war dries slowly.
Scars repair; yet remain and remind.
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Copyright © November 2003 Thomas Edward Wright
This Poem was Critiqued By: Erzahl Leo M. Espino On Date: 2003-12-07 17:29:53
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.72727
Hi Thomas,
Your vivid memory of your trip “under the careful eye of the Hawk” is one unique presentation.
I don’t know why “HawK” is capitalized - meaning might be relevant to you Tom.
I enjoy the descriptive words you mentioned here regarding your journey. Starting with the word “Northward”, it seems the voyage was destined. I like the face of your vehicle “Fast and sleek in the Maroon coupe”. Saying “stark black earth, naked” is clever while “somber as
wild turkeys stalk row upon row of once tall corn” is playful.
Describing Iowa’s November sky with “Pregnant with her first snow” is expressively lyrical yet also playful too. I also like the welcoming “Gold scarves wave to an old wind, an old friend” - nostalgic at the same time.
The last lines: “The blood of war dries slowly. Scars repair; yet remain and remind.”, has a bit twist, but I then realized, the “Border Clash” could be about war (soldier crossing) or you visiting “an old friend” in Iowa which slowly reminds you about the war you both experienced.
This is a deep piece, in a sense “mysterious” - as usual a common theme of your pen. Yet I found myself enjoying the profundity of it! Again, kudos on the display of your descriptive words in nature. Overall, this is a worthy poem!
As always,
Erzahl :)
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2003-12-03 07:54:16
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.58065
Perhaps it was not your intention my friend to take one back in time to a place where the fields grew tall and men hid within ready and waiting with armed rifles to take a life or two..........onweard we marched through those open and conceled fields.......not knowing where a mine might be planted and perhaps by poor chance one of your friends or fellow serviceman might step and ignite....blowing not only him but others along.....blood...indeed there was much in such a place.....memories, too many, the blood does dry on the land and open fields, the wild turkeys return for another season, the snow falls gently upon our land and yet the memories are there....always there within the lining of ones heart.....to live through such an ordeal and to know what actually happened then and what is happening now........memories.......good structure, kept my attention throughout....again, I am not certain where you might have been going my friend but this is where you brought me.......from the snow covered mountain of Tully to the heat and devastation of perhaps VietNam for that is the one war that shall always remain within my heart for I lost many friends there in those open fields that craved to be home with loved ones and to feel the snow against their cheeks as it fell from a sky that was free........thanks for the post, to me it was a great read...be safe my friend, God Bless, Claire
love the term pregnant with her first snow.....would love to see Iowa someday too......
This Poem was Critiqued By: Sean Donaghy On Date: 2003-12-02 15:01:12
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.96552
Charles Starkweather ran northward..."through and away from"...,
"fast and sleek in a maroon coupe..." - over "...a stark black earth..."
but that was some time ago and has nothing to do with this (I think)
Marvelous imagery (although the "pregnant with snow" thing is a bit cliché-ish).
I will take some time to discern all the meanings here...there being so many diversities!
Thanks for the read
Sean
This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2003-11-27 23:04:26
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Thomas:
This poem's rich and vivid imagery brings me right into the situation. But I'm not sure --- at first ---who's running or why, only that they were at war and now they're either retreating northward or returning home from battle. Yet the Maroon coupe mystifies. Are these modern-day gangsters driving away from the scene of their latest hit? The Hawk is a local newspaper according to my Google search (yeah, I got curious). Naturally, it would report the incident. So ...
AHA!!! An ancient football rivalry emerges. U. of Minnesota and U. of Iowa square off every fall and this time, Iowa has won and the Minnesotans are licking their wounds. The school colors of maroon and gold are subtly woven into this descriptive tale. The ominous "silos" refer no to missiles but merely to farms. It's only a six-mile drive but for the losers, it must seem like a continental trek!
I love this, now that I understand it. In fact, I have a URL for other readers who might not think to look up the allusions. http://www.startribune.com/stories/462/42
824.html I gather it's a considerable victory for Iowa to claim the title and to the winner go the spoils, for now.
I'm not really up on American college football but no matter, as a game is a game; my daughter attends St. Mary's U. in Halifax and that team has just made history with a three-in-a-row appearance in our national university championship game for the Vanier Cup (they lost this year and won back to back the other two). Their color is also maroon, oddly enough. And their opponents were Laval Rouge et Or, so there's the gold! Small world.
Much enjoyed.
Brenda
This Poem was Critiqued By: Jane A Day On Date: 2003-11-20 13:56:15
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Dear Thomas,
So much of this poem is magnificent--it steals my breath.
(Under the careful eye of the Hawk)I think here of Hawk as in Bush but I see the rabbit running though the field as the double.
Northward we run
Through and away from
Fast and sleek in the Maroon coupe - (I see us fleeing to Canada, fleeing slavery--I see the car and am never quite sure what to make of it except the time period is now)
The stark black earth, naked, somber as
Wild turkeys stalk row upon row of once tall corn
Past the last half acre of brown beans
Over a modest river bridged long ago
Iowa, your silo studded horizon mesmerizes
While November, hung-over
Pregnant with her first snow, threatens.
On toward home.
How fine, how proud, how safe that first broad lake
This shallow valley, her wooded hills make us feel.
The shame, with the cloud deck, lifts slightly. (All this so wonderful so precise--I can feel the cold burn my teeth)
Gold scarves wave to an old wind, an old friend. (I don't get the allusion to gold scarves)
The blood of war dries slowly. (a wonderful clear turn in the poem)
Scars repair; yet remain and remind (I love the feeling here but have seen this image so often and what has gone before is mesmerizing. I wonder if another image can shimmy better?)
Thanks for this gift,
Jane
This Poem was Critiqued By: Irene E Fraley On Date: 2003-11-19 19:13:21
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.37500
Hello Thomas,
This is very well written. As a reader I was impressed with the imagery, the smooth flow of the language, the movement across the country impells the flow of the poem. The imagery is vivid, clear and origional. I have to confess that I'm not too sure who is going exactly where, or why, but I honestly don't care. The sound of the poem as read aloud is almost hypnotic. I really don't see any reason to change this at all.
Rene Fraley
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2003-11-18 20:58:19
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
T.:
This is brief but I have to comment on this lovely jewel; "my bones turn to dark
emeralds." I interpret your poem as another tribute to James Wright and it is as
fine and layered as some of his best. My problem being: I haven't read him sufficiently
to understand everything.
"Under the careful eye of the Hawk", symbol of predator or perhaps sharing prey?
The two of you head northward, away from the tortured scape of Iowa. The maroon
coupe is lost to me unless you refer to the color of dried blood as the poem suggests
the theme of war (but not the traditional ones).
The silos of Iowa are reminiscent of the "charred silos" and also hint of missile
possibilities. You add a seasonal border as well, that of November which you depict
as "hung-over, pregnant with her first snow, threatens". Nothing short of exquisite.
And I think of Wright's "Late November in a Field".
The seared, blackened landscape of Iowa suggests the remnants of a battlefield or
"I am lost in the beautiful white ruins of America." The poet/narrator feels
happy as he passes the border, clashes left behind, and nears home.
Your ending couplet:
"The blood of war dries slowly.
Scars repair; yet remain and remind."
Simply wonderful, T. Such abundant wisdom in those words...wherever or whatever the war...
the scars are still there to remind us. "I wish to God I had made this world, this scurvy
and disastrous place." Ojala!
Sorry this is rushed...matters beyond my control...and I may have missed your import by a
mile but I enormously enjoyed the trip.
Bravo!
Mell
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2003-11-18 15:41:12
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Ho ho,
Getting the team ready for the holiday season? Apparently (must be misspelled!) not, as you have time to pen poetry. This looked good in the half-light as my wax wanes. Very good. I see a consciously designing mind behind this poem, as if you had ruminated a bit, getting the pieces just right, before swallowing. Ruminating does have something to do with chewing, doesn't it? I hope so.
Anyway, keep those snow shoes on tight, my dear Viking friend.
No mas.
Nox
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2003-11-18 14:44:26
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90000
Dear Tom:
Your latest submission is no less a puzzle than any of your other poems,
which is why I especially enjoy them. Some mysteries are not meant to be
completely fathomed. But I will take my chances.
(Under the careful eye of the Hawk)
In ancient Egypt, the hawk was the symbol of the soul, I believe, and perhaps
also a symbol of victory for the Egyptians. I believe this has to do with the
way the hawk swoops down on its prey with power and ferocity. From his elevated
vantage point, the hawk views the flight of the passengers in the Maroon coupe.
We wonder what thoughts he entertains.
Northward we run
Through and away from
Fast and sleek in the Maroon coupe -
Does the Maroon coupe represent the physical body of the speaker? Does the direction
of running, "Northward" imply cold and darkness? To Native Americans, north represented
the realm of the ancestors, the realm of death and rebirth. Perhaps a return to the land
of one's birth.
The stark black earth, naked, somber as
Wild turkeys stalk row upon row of once tall corn
Past the last half acre of brown beans
Over a modest river bridged long ago
The "earth, naked" is a feminine image, at least to this reader. I think of Mother Earth,
or 'earth mothers' or the earthy, sensual nature of humans. Nakedness implies either
vulnerability or a state of being unadorned. I hadn't thought of wild turkeys as a somber
species of birds, but perhaps with the onset of the coldest weather, and the bleak outlook
for others of their species who have been domesticated and masticated in this season of the
year, all turkeys would have reason to be somber. "one tall corn" implies a state of
shriveled fertility, as corn is an ancient symbol of fecundity. The "black earth" and
the "brown beans" add their tenebrific tone to the piece. The "modest river" suggests,
at least to this reader, suggests a feeling of time slowing, of change happening but
at a glacial pace.
Iowa, your silo studded horizon mesmerizes
While November, hung-over
Pregnant with her first snow, threatens.
The images of "once tall corn" and "silo studded horizon" imply a kind of surfeit, but
not a curved goat's horn overflowing with fruit and ears of grain flowing from the
traditional cornucopia, symbol of abundance. The pregnancy of November seems bleak,
and as you have limned, threatening. Snow can be a symbol of purity and cleansing,
but here it seems to represent a frozen state of being, a kind of blocked expression.
On toward home.
Ah, "home." One's physical habitat, one's spiritual destiny, or cause for anxiety if
for example, the plumbing is clogged. The obstructed water in the pipes that is a
frequent happening in November, especially in the Northern hemisphere, is not a
celebratory occasion. But, nevertheless, the speaker moves toward it with a kind of
benumbed acceptance of whatever fate awaits.
How fine, how proud, how safe that first broad lake
This shallow valley, her wooded hills make us feel.
Celtic symbolism held that the Land of the Dead was at the bottom of the lake.
Nostalgia for the feelings of safety and pride of "that first broad lake"
seem to beckon the speaker, though ambivalent, towards an ultimate destination,
home. The annual Thanksgiving trek?
The shame, with the cloud deck, lifts slightly.
Gold scarves wave to an old wind, an old friend.
It is the wooded hills of the valley which "make us feel/The shame", lifting slightly?
The "gold scarves" which wave "to an old wind" seem to be a metaphor for the gold leaved
trees, moving in a chilly wind, beckoning to the speak (and speaker's family) as "an
old friend" would do.
The blood of war dries slowly.
Scars repair; yet remain and remind.
Even though decades pass, "the blood of war dries slowly." And who fights a bloodier
warfare than close kin! I am reading this couplet as a metaphor for the sense of
woundedness felt by the speaker (and those closest) from past encounters. These
"scars repair" and yet, when one returns to a familiar setting and time of year,
one is reminded of historical "border clashes."
The ambiguity and layers of potential meaning, and especially the gloomy tone are
some of the reasons I especially enjoyed this offering.
If I have missed the point entirely, I can only hope for the mercy of the poet.
In any event, I have enjoyed the opportunity to read and comment. Happy holidays!
My best,
Joanne
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2003-11-18 11:30:41
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.33333
You ’re Back! OH frabjous day! Calloo Callay!
Northward we run
Through and away from
[yes--- sing it ! fiddle us down and up and in ]
Fast and sleek in the Maroon coupe -
The stark black earth, naked, somber as
[As anything we can imagine -- sans gin]
Wild turkeys [okay or we can drink wild turkey]stalk row upon row of once tall corn
Past the last half acre of brown beans
Over a modest river bridged long ago
Iowa, your silo studded horizon mesmerizes
Iowa, Ohio, Idaho too
While November, hung-over
Pregnant with her first snow,[I would KILL to have
Written that phrase] threatens.
On toward home.
How fine, how proud, how safe that first broad lake
How fine how proud that metaphor –[but then , I never met a phor I didn’t like]simile
This shallow valley, her wooded hills make us feel.
The shame, with the cloud deck, lifts slightly.
Gold scarves wave to an old wind, an old friend.
Yes yes – what a grand and noble flock of wheat
The blood of war dries slowly.
Scars repair; yet remain and remind.
Yes – especially when pointed out with such skill
Excellent piece – great ending - welcome home
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