An Old Leather Binder

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I'm not sure if this is dramatic poetry, but I think its closer to that then Other is, so I'm posting it here.

An Old Leather Binder

An old leather binder.
It has endured the passage of time well.
Its edges are slightly frayed,
but that is the only sign of its age.
The clasps hold strong still.
This is not a binder where the paper slips between the teeth.
Not a binder to let go…
This binder holds everything inside.
The teeth of the zipper stick sometimes,
as they chew up the paper trying to escape.

One corner crushes inward, broken in bygone days.
I wonder how it broke.

The leather is loose on the frame,
probably has been since the day it was made.
The cow skin wrinkles when pushed,
dyed black by hands long ago.
It has a smell, but only if I want to smell it.
I’m not even sure the smell is there,
maybe I just imagine it.
Just like I imagine the lingering presence of its past owner.
Do I know the smell of leather,
any more than I knew my grandfather?
Last edited by FamousAuthor on Sun Apr 26, 2009 4:11 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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I like the concept of this poem. It is interesting, and the way you wrote it is good. There are a few errors though. I changed around the line breaks so that it flowed better.

FamousAuthor wrote:
An old leather binder.
It has withstood the passage of time well.
Its edges are slightly frayed,
but that is the only sign of its age.
The clasps hold strong still.
This is not a binder where the paper slips between the teeth. Could you shorten this line, or split it into two?
Not a binder to let go…
This binder holds everything inside.
The teeth of the zipper stick sometimes,
as they chew up the paper trying to escape.

One corner crushes inward,
broken in bygone days.
I wonder how it broke.

The leather is loose on the frame,
probably has been since the day it was made.
The cow skin wrinkles when pushed,
dyed black by hands long ago.
It smells a bit, This line doesn't quite fit, because it is a bit too short. Could you add a bit more detail on what it smells like?
but only if I want to smell it.
I’m not even sure the smell is there,
maybe I just imagine it.
Just like I imagine the lingering presence of its past owner. This one could be shortened as well, but it's not necessary.
Do I know the smell of leather,
any more than I knew my grandfather?


Altogether, I liked it. The lines need to be kept a bit more even, though, for it to flow right. Well done!
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

-Bilbo Baggins, The Fellowship of the Ring, J. R. R. Tolkien




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Thanks Chips
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I liked this - there's a real sense of memory and loss here. The image of the leather binder is explored well, but I think you need to work on the flow of the poem a bit - it kind of sticks, stops and starts, in places which detracts from the overall tranquility of the image.

In particular, I think you should perhaps try to change "it has withstood" -- it feels really awkward, for some reason. Shortening the longer lines (e.g. "This is not a binder where...") might help reduce the stop-start feeling as well, and perhaps you could toy with the order a bit - the ideas stop and start in much the same way that the flow does. For example, why is "one corner crushes inward..." separated from the rest? What marks it out?

Other than some smoothing out and a bit of trimming, though, I can't really see much wrong here. The ending was especially lovely. A nice piece - kudos :)

Cheers,
~bubbles
Got a poem or short story you want me to critique?

There is only one success: to be able to spend your life in your own way, and not to give others absurd maddening claims upon it. (C D Morley)




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FamousAuthor, this is fizzy!!

Good job, I mean. Actually, It seems a little short of fizz. Free verse alright, but it's a little slow. The metaphor doesn't seem to permeate all the way. Actually, I might take that back. This was very splendidly done (>>after third read). I wouldn't say it had a sense of loss, more like a sense of awe or curiosity (I can relate a bit because I hardly knew my grandpa when he died, we hardly ever do).

There's something about the physicality of the whole poem, as if you picked up the book, turned over in your hand, and imagined its smell, that will surely stick with me. I'm fine with most of the line-breaks, it seems deceptively simple. Great work. Please keep posting. Thanks for the read. :D

The Plant.
What syllable are you seeking,
Vocalissimus,
In the distances of sleep?
Speak it.
—Wallace Stevens, “To the Roaring Wind”




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FamousAuthor:

I like how it revolves around giving more thought to such a mundane thing as an old leather binder, then later on denoting it as a source of memory. I think it just needs a little more rhythm, but it's already good as it is. :]

Sorry! Newbie here and i really don't know what I'm doing. :] Thanks! Enjoyed it! :]

~ bailecielo :]
"Love is the black of cliches" ~bailecielo'09~



Perhaps it is better to wake up after all, even to suffer, rather than to remain a dupe to illusions all one's life.
— Kate Chopin, The Awakening