The Writers Block

Whenever someone came up missing in our town,
folks were quick to blame the river.
The men would load up whiskey and grappling hooks
into john boats; drag that stretch from Looking Glass Falls
to the spillway where a man could roil a week and not be found.

They'd prod the banks with bamboo where
Pop said catfish big as a boy laid in under there
and fed off what the river didn't swallow.
Sometimes they'd snag a body; sometimes they'd say:
"Nothing we can do now unless a flood comes."

When I was ten, the river took my Mama.
Least that's what Pop says anyway-
the truth doesn't matter.

All that summer me and my little brother rode our bikes
down to where we imagined she went under;
tossed in wild flowers we picked
along the way, shoved each other
and made jokes about fish food.

Maybe this spring or the next when the rains come
and the water slips its banks dark
and beautiful as a child running barefoot
through new-sown fields,
the river will float her free.

Kenneth---


Whenever someone came up missing

Might consider cutting: in our town,


folks were quick to blame the river.

Folks blamed the river when someone
Came up missing.

Does this push the action more to the front of the line? Does it more immediately grab the reader?


The opening two lines about whiskey and grappling hooks not as interesting as this:


from Looking Glass Falls
to the spillway where a man could roil a week and not be found.


We don’t get much value from whiskey and grappling hooks, from john boats….



The men would load up whiskey and grappling hooks
into john boats; drag that stretch



They'd prod the banks with bamboo where
Pop said catfish big as a boy laid in under there
and fed off what the river didn't swallow.
Sometimes they'd snag a body; sometimes they'd say:
"Nothing we can do now unless a flood comes."

When I was ten, the river took my Mama.
Least that's what Pop says anyway-
the truth doesn't matter.

All that summer me and my little brother rode our bikes
down to where we imagined she went under;
tossed in wild flowers we picked
along the way, shoved each other
and made jokes about fish food.

Maybe this spring or the next when the rains come
and the water slips its banks dark
and beautiful as a child running barefoot
through new-sown fields,
the river will float her free.

Reconsider the close, seems too sentimental, to poetic to me.

This is the culprit:

and beautiful as a child running barefoot
through new-sown fields,


famous poem, barefoot boy and a much later funny book barefoot boy with cheek.

….not your fault, but there it is.

The Barefoot Boy

by John Greenleaf Whittier


Blessings on thee, little man,
Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!
With thy turned-up pantaloons,
And thy merry whistled tunes;
With thy red lip, redder still
Kissed by strawberries on the hill;

etc...


and i've always admired the simplicity and strength of whitman here:

and the barefoot negro boy and girl,



and the much more modern and funny max shulman book about college life:

Barefoot Boy with Cheek



Beautiful as…..think of a replacement image----yes?


a difficult story to tell, historical and yet very personal.


mojave

I enjoyed, I would not mess with it. What does roil mean?

Ieuan

Hi Kenneth,

Well crafted, tad sentimental but I think in a way that helps the poem, especially since we are seeing this from the 10 year old's point of view. In addition to what Bernie has pointed out, the couple of problems I am having with this piece has to do with the prolonged scene-setting in S1 and S2 and the cynical interruption in the dream (if you will) in S3 (L2 and 3). Please consider the following suggests in-lined:

Whenever someone came up missing in our town,
folks were quick to blame the river.
The men would [load up whiskey and grappling hooks
into john boats;] drag that stretch from Looking Glass Falls
to the spillway {consider lb} where a man could roil a week and not be found.

They'd prod the banks with bamboo where
Pop said catfish big as a boy laid in under [there]
[and fed] (feeding) off what the river didn't swallow.
Sometimes they'd snag a body; sometimes they'd say:
"Nothing we can do now unless a flood comes."

When I was ten, the river took my Mama.
[Least that's what Pop says anyway-
the truth doesn't matter.]

All that summer me and my little brother rode our bikes
down to where we imagined she went under;
tossed in wild flowers we picked
along the way, shoved each other
and made jokes about fish food.

Maybe this spring or the next when the rains come
[and the water slips its banks dark
and beautiful as a child running] barefoot
through new-sown fields,
the river will float her free.

In summary, I think, for this piece to work, it is important the reader sees the narrative unfold through the ten year olds' eyes (as it currently does, barring the brief interjection of an unknown new voice in S3). I like the latent narrative, in how the narrative introduces the brother and would like to see more of that aspect explored; to get a whiff of the world as seen by the brother, who, although present, is a shadow, far removed from the thick of the narrative.

Enjoyed, none the same. Regards. Sachi

First of all, perfect title. I wanted to read this right away. My thoughts below. Hope to be helpful and thanks for posting this.


Whenever someone came up missing in our town,
folks were quick to blame the river.
The men would load up whiskey and grappling hooks ***love grappling hooks
into john boats; drag that stretch from Looking Glass Falls
to the spillway where a man could roil a week and not be found. *** roil is terrific

They'd prod the banks with bamboo where
Pop said catfish big as a boy laid in under there **consider going from big as a boy to fed off***
and fed off what the river didn't swallow.
Sometimes they'd snag a body; sometimes they'd say:
"Nothing we can do now unless a flood comes." ***great cadence

When I was ten, the river took my Mama.
Least that's what Pop says anyway-
the truth doesn't matter.

All that summer me and my little brother rode our bikes
down to where we imagined she went under;
tossed in wild flowers we picked
along the way, shoved each other
and made jokes about fish food. ***this doesn't ring true

Maybe this spring or the next when the rains come
and the water slips its banks dark
and beautiful as a child running barefoot **rather than 'a child' give us the specifics here
through new-sown fields, of your brother and yourself at your new age.
the river will float her free.

Ken,

I like the rhythm throughout and the poem takes me to the scene. I am with the boys. Where I begin to hesitate (and not a lot), is at the ante-penultimate stanza. I really like all of it as it is to that point. So, let me just go there:

I may leave cut to read "that's what Pop says." --after the first line.
(I like the age of ten, but the story unfolds to think back, and we are losing innocence at that).

I may skip the penultimate stanza altogether and jump into the closing stanza... To read "Maybe when the rains come and the water slips its banks dark through new-sown fields, the river will float her free." Why: it stays concentrated in the real subject matter, the thought of mother coming back.

I enjoyed it.

pen

Thanks to all who commented, much appreciated as always..

Hi Kenneth-

I thought this was compelling;
felt I was reading something of a classic story.

I agree with dropping lines like:

"in our town"
"beautiful as"
"Least that's what Pop says anyway-
the truth doesn't matter."

Consider:
Pop says the river took my Mama when I was ten.

But I wouldn't change much else. It really is a stand up poem.

Peace,

Thanks Yoly...............

Before I do some revision on this- I need to ask...

Is it apparent the mother really did not drown?

Hope that isn't a dumb question..

No, I thought she drowned. But now that you say it, this seems to come in closer:
"Least that's what Pop says anyway-
the truth doesn't matter."

Kenneth---

i sure got the idea that the issue was in question---

When I was ten, the river took my Mama.
Least that's what Pop says anyway-

the truth doesn't matter.

and the lighthearted view of the narrator at age ten and his brother:



All that summer me and my little brother rode our bikes
down to where we imagined she went under;
tossed in wild flowers we picked
along the way, shoved each other
and made jokes about fish food.


the close could turn the reader away from the river---

Maybe this spring or the next when the rains come
and the water slips its banks dark
and beautiful .....


maybe then i'll be old enough
to look for mama in Des Moines
or on one of those Mississippi boats,
they say she liked Keno
and had lots of friends.



but this doesn't work---it seems like the boy/narrator is calling himself beautiful.

and the water slips its banks dark
and beautiful
as a child running barefoot
through new-sown fields,
the river will float her free.



bernie

thanks bernie, I can be obtuse even to myself...

I like that keno angle lol........maybe a tattoo and some cheap beer.

yoly...see, that's why we need workshops. I thought it was crystalline.

Hi, Ken,

Good question, actually. I thought "That's what Pop says," implied a question mark. I like the ambiguity.

pen

Ken---

your poem is not obtuse. it may end on a note of creative ambiguity, but that's fine in my book. remember the story, the lady or the tiger---which door was she behind, which door would be opened.

the best book i know on ambiguity:

wikipedia:




This article is about the book by William Empson. For the 2003 novel, see Elliot Perlman.
Seven Types of Ambiguity was first published in 1930 by William Empson. It was one of the most influential critical works of the 20th century and was a key foundation work in the formation of the New Criticism school.[1]


The book is organized around seven types of ambiguity that Empson finds in the poetry he criticises. The first printing in America was by New Directions in 1947.

Seven Types of Ambiguity ushered in New Criticism in the United States. The book is a guide to a style of literary criticism practiced by Empson. An ambiguity is represented as a puzzle to Empson. We have ambiguity when "alternative views might be taken without sheer misreading." Empson reads poetry as an exploration of conflicts within the author.


Seven types
1.The first type of ambiguity is the metaphor, that is, when two things are said to be alike which have different properties. This concept is similar to that of metaphysical conceit.

2.Two or more meanings are resolved into one. Empson characterizes this as using two different metaphors at once.

3.Two ideas that are connected through context can be given in one word simultaneously.

4.Two or more meanings that do not agree but combine to make clear a complicated state of mind in the author.

5.When the author discovers his idea in the act of writing. Empson describes a simile that lies halfway between two statements made by the author.

6.When a statement says nothing and the readers are forced to invent a statement of their own, most likely in conflict with that of the author.

7.Two words that within context are opposites that expose a fundamental division in the author's mind.[2]


bernie

There is ambiguity in the poem, but I find that the strong point of the poem. If we read it detatched, and who wants to read poems in a detached way? Then the meaning is clear, straight off, that's what pops told us and the truth don't matter.

Then later we have the children speaking as if the river will give up its secret and will release her and this is typical of wishful thinking. But then kids do live in their own world and even agree that their worlds don't make sense. I think that is how children survive else they would go mad at a much earlier age. That's also why children are suckers for fair stories and the like becuase there is that blend of reality and fiction and also magical. I agree that making jokes about their mother being fishfood is unrealistic and yet kids can be pretty harsh. It's you poem, you have to decide. I would say this poem needs very little further work if any.

Ieaun

Thanks a lot Ieaun. I didn't intend ambiguity.