[Jan Iwaszkiewicz]

Version 2

Black Angus heifers, standing, stolid, mute
were laagered, mesmerised around the fire.
Coals coruscating in black opal eyes,
were prescient and preaching to the choir.

Original

Black Angus heifers, standing, stolid, mute
were laagered, mesmerised around the fire.
Coals coruscated in black opal eyes,
a prescience that preaches to the choir.


Former L4
a barbecue that’s singing to the choir.

[David Callin]

Hi Jan. This seems like the sort of thing that Les Murray might write. I like it, but I'm a bit puzzled about the singing barbecue. Maybe the cows are gathering round a barbecue party? But does that make them the choir?

Its economy is one of the strengths of the poem, but is it a little too economical for the sense to come through? That may just be me.

Cheers

David

[Jan Iwaszkiewicz]

How often things work well in the blindness of the mind David. Cha-grin!

Changed to:

A prescience that’s preaching to the choir

[Rick Mullin]

Hi Jan,

That change is a big improvement. I can see what David means about this having the feel of a Les Murray poem.

I'm put off by the meter in line three.

Weird and interesting.

Rick

[Jan Iwaszkiewicz]

I hear you Rick but I ‘sprung’ that one in to break up the soundscape of the quatrain. Considering my attempted emulation I was quite pleased with it.

I had written initially:
Reflected coals were burning in their eyes.

It was vanilla and going nowhere.

[RCL]

Jan,

Enjoyed your insights into the cattle’s prescient and punny epiphany about their imminent barbecuing!

The sauce is the boss,