[R. Nemo Hill]

Fine, but not very exciting.

I did jerk involuntarily at the word stub in L3. Though I realize the poet didn't want to use the word stump twice in one short poem, still stub seems a sore-thumbish synonym.

In L4 I am convinced that a paralleling of the article before fall with that in L6 before fast collapse would be more rhythmic.

Neither our home nor we were spared the fall
of less corporeal timber all around:
the fast collapse of structures at their roots
That's brought uncounted households to the ground

And I think that L6 itself, the fast collapse of structures at their roots, is a rather ungainly description.

As for corporeal, it doesn't bother me as much as others, though it twists the tongue a bit in context.

Overall, well, I think that this could be a much shorter poem, and that the form here has dragged out the description and delayed the moment of insight so long as to dilute its requisite moment of wisdom.

Nemo

[Michael Cantor]

There is a stiffness to both the thumpity-thump meter and some of the language on this one that puts me off - it sounds almost like a poem written by a program - and I can't get into it. Maybe I'm just over-sonneted. Will try again later.

[T.S. Kerrigan]

I agree that the word "corporeal" stands out like a sore thumb. The contraction "I've" in the sestet doesn't connect up with "see" in the same line.

[Alex Pepple]

This is good but not great because the delivery seems protracted to achieve sonnet form. I see a shorter, more effective poem, IMHO:

We felled the rotting tree before the rains
Because we feared it might crash through a wall
And though the stub is all that since remains,

I’ve come to clear our stump, and see that shoots
Have made a thin and ill-considered stand
In such a manner, I could think that we—
Hit by a blow for which we hadn’t planned
And severed from a vast, old certainty—

Like these few switches in a rough-cut cleft,
May yet go on to grow from what we’ve left.


Cheers,
...Alex

[Rose Kelleher]

I rather like the "stiffness" and think of it as more like good posture. The language is crisp, precise, and very English. At least, I think the author is English, and that "what we've left" means "what we still have in our possession" rather than "what we have left behind".

But yeah, the metaphor may be spelled out a tad (a whit? a jot?) too explicitly.

[Julie Steiner]

I really, really want some sort of punctuation at the end of L2.

Really.

Am I the only one, since no one else has mentioned it? Or am I missing an intentional effect of breathless, pell-mell impetus...hurricane-force winds, perhaps...?

(I'd still prefer at least a slight pause there.)

[Terese Coe]

Originally Posted by Turner Cassity

The Switches


We felled the rotting tree before the rains
Because we feared it might crash through a wall
But though the stub is all that since remains,
Neither our home nor we were spared a fall
Of less corporeal timber all around:
The fast collapse of structures at their roots
That’s brought uncounted households to the ground.

I’ve come to clear our stump, and see that shoots
Have made a thin and ill-considered stand
In such a manner, I could think that we—
Hit by a blow for which we hadn’t planned
And severed from a vast, old certainty—

Like these few switches in a rough-cut cleft,
May yet go on to grow from what we’ve left.

Parts of this are enticing; a few areas are too wordy or excessively expained. It needs some pruning. L1 is a lovely opener, but L2 is almost entirely unnecessary in the light of L1.

L3: "since" is unnecessary, thus filler I suppose

L6-7 is unclear; which structures, what roots? Structures meaning houses? Do houses have roots? What is the antecedent of "their"? If "timber" it's singular--at least in the US. OK, so perhaps it's a UK sort of construction--but "households" should be replaced with a simple "houses." Household means the people in the house, not the house (when used as a noun).

L8-9 are good, charming, but I don't see why the shoots growth is "ill-considered"; a stump is a fine place for shoots, at least according to me. Some might object to the pathetic fallacy, though I don't. The following line is wordy again.

"In such a manner" (even if I were writing in the UK, I would save this sort of phrase for a more formal context, and I don't mean form-formal), "I could think" (seems fillerish, but this again may be more of a UK locution). Actually, I am inordinately fond of UK locutions, but these two seem a bit off for the rest of the diction.

Thing is, the house was not hit by a major blow, so why "in such a manner"? The household had planned well in cutting down the rotten tree.

The couplet is very good, and a few tweaks would make this quite fine.

Reminds me of the huge tree a friend and her husband did not remove, ignorant of the fact it was rotten inside. It was only a foot or less from their house. One night in a lightning storm they heard huge cracking and a great whomp, and ran out of the house as it was falling--the 200-year-old monster tree had fallen parallel to their wall instead of through the roof! The branches alone would have destroyed part of the house, but they fell past the end of the wall. The owners could have been killed, of course. Way too close for comfort. But many of you have probably heard the story from Gaz's Chris.

In any case, I enjoyed this sonnet. Makes me wish for my very own tree; then I remember I have a garden plot in a community garden and can't even mess around there because of ridiculous allergies!

PS Yes Julie, I noticed a missing period--but after L 9. Thought it was a typo. Oops (2nd edit), actually it's ok--and no comment on L2's punctuation b/c I'll be here forever.

[Petra Norr]

I’ve come to clear our stump, and see that shoots
Have made a thin and ill-considered stand

In the lines above, I would have liked a description of the shoots. It would have been better to show the reader how they’re emerging rather than sum it up with the abstract words, “have made a thin and ill-considered stand”. Overall, this sonnet only “suggests” images; it paints vague pictures in broad strokes. Poetry is always more interesting when specific images are given.

[Rose Kelleher]

"Thin" describes the shoots, and "ill-considered" suggests their position is awkward or precarious. Those same words also describe the narrator's tenuous relationship. I like when words do double duty like that.

[Janet Kenny]

The poem is wise and expressed with economy and metrical niceness. It was the comparison with Frost that made me emphasise the stiffness which is a quality I have never found in Frost's sonnets.