[RCrawford]

SOMETHING ABOUT THE APPLES
for W.

Something about the apples thumping down
From these untended trees, an early wind
Hissing among the birch leaves in the sun,
Something about the stillness and the sound
Time passing makes, a tremor in the air,
An infinitesimal hiccup, afternoon
Gone with the day, before the stars appear,
The space between us, both of us alone,
Makes me as sad as when I saw piled high
Peter’s agendas, neatly packed and numbered,
Each year recorded, shoe-boxed, as if he
Reckoned to hold each hour lived remembered —

For then I think I too shall die and leave
Calendars to sort, but none to save.

[RCrawford]

I will make a brief comment on each “finalist” as I post it but I will keep the comment limited to the positive aspects of the selection and save any critique for later.

“Something About the Apples” immediately establishes, a place, a point of view for where the words are coming from. I feel it in the “untended trees” and the passing of the day which becomes the passing of a life. It’s all slant rhymes in a traditional Shakespearean scheme, and I enjoyed the consistency of the craft. I liked going back over it, tasting and testing the sounds. I liked how the poem moved from the specific natural setting to thoughts of Peter and what happens to what we value when we are gone. Everything transpires in a one-sided conversation with the W. of the epigraph (the W. that, I assume, the narrator imagines sorting through the calendars of the final couplet)—a conversation which knits the sonnet together.

And, yes, nods to Frost’s “Mowing”: “Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun,/Something , perhaps about the lack of sound…”

[Catherine Chandler]

I also heard echoes of Frost's "Mowing" in the images already mentioned by the DG.

Having recently been called upon to clear out my late parents' home, and to discard things they evidently felt were important to save, the poem struck a very personal chord with me. It was a harrowing psychological experience.

Minor points: I think there is room for a semicolon instead of a comma at the end of line 3 and perhaps no need for a comma in L7 after the word day. I don't quite see the need to separate the closing couplet. The caps at the beginning of each line bother me, but it's a personal choice only and not really a nit.

I guess my major concern would be the phrase "Makes me as sad" in L9. I would have preferred a more subtle and at the same time stronger articulation of the sadness felt by N.

[ross hamilton hill]

There's a lot you could pick on as flawed in this poem, but the feeling is very in tune with the melody, the meter. My disappointment is with the last slant ryhme, which is tenuous.

[Susan McLean]

I like the beginning and the end of this sonnet, but around L4-8 it goes rather flat for me. The apples, trees, agendas are all very specific and visual, but the middle gets vague and abstract.

Susan

[Janice D. Soderling]

I haven't time for a proper analysis, but just want to say that I like this very much. These words ending in hard d (untended, wind, sound, sad, piled, packed, numbered, recorded, boxed, reckoned, hold, lived, remembered), are like the intermittent thumps of falling apples, like a strange irregular ticking of a clock, like hiccups. They punctuate the poem.

I like this very much—the intimate opening to the reader standing near, the sadness of the phrasing "The space between us, both of us alone" which is heightened by "untended", and a passel of other (both plainspoken and alluded) reminders of mortality: time passing, infinitesimal hiccup, gone, recorded years, hour, calendar and not least the shoebox containing the "recorded years" and "hours" which is a strong coffin image.

And the killer closing (no pun intended) with the double-barreled "die and leave" and the resignation of the last three words.

I too hear Frost's ghost here here, but not "Mowing" so much as "Mending Wall". Something there is that doesn't love a wall. (the space between us).

A beautiful poem that makes a strong connection with at least this reader. Strong words, excellent work, IMO.

[Orwn Acra]

Great title. I am less sure about the move from octopus to sestopus. "As sad as when..." reads too much like transition for me; or perhaps I don't see the connection between the apples and the paperwork. Even the N. doesn't understand the connection if she's calling it "something."

[Kyle Norwood]

Syntax and meter are artfully joined here: the one long sentence takes on the contours of the sonnet with an ease and fluidity that never seems forced. The movement from apples to agendas is unexpected and appropriate: like the fallen apples, the agendas were part of a living process from which they have been suddenly cut off. I don't know what sort of experience that "infinitesimal hiccup" is, though: I don't think I've ever experienced time in that way. Am I missing something obvious about that odd phrase? Otherwise, this seems like an excellent poem.

[Janice D. Soderling]

Kyle. That a lifetime is just an infinitesimal hiccup in time. It is a phrase one sees now and then (small/tiny hiccup in time, etc.), though I don't know if it has a literary source.

[Mary McLean]

"none to save" is a strong yet nuanced ending to envy. But I do find L4-9 a bit flat and vague, not helped by the repetition of "something about." The emotion in the poem is so universal that everyone can respond to it, but none of the images are quite fresh or striking enough to be memorable. Still, an enjoyable read.