By a magic tree, we stood and hoped.

You did not long consider the clear shallow water hemming the river,
or the texture of the shining grit that you would walk away with,
stolen in pinches stuck between toes. You ignored me,
knee-deep in silt, glorying in small wet stones. You were busy admiring the willow tree
that bent under your hand, and the soft haze of pale, feathery leaves
delineated by black branches, and the medicinal smells of bark,
that you thought would peel off pains like a second skin around your old hips.

I was the river god, for a moment, with my trousers rolled up to my knees, and knew better;
but that was there, not here. Here, when you ask me for a cup of water and another pill
I'll bring both to your bed, and wait a little while at your side.

*

I was challenged by wiseman to write about a river next to a magic tree. I am easily, if briefly, inspired.

This flows well and your imagery is beautiful and vivid. I really loved;
"the willow tree

that bent under your hand,"

and
"peel off pains that caressed you like a second skin"

and

"When you ask me for a cup of water and another pill

I'll bring both to your bed, and wait a little while at your side."
Those last two lines are very powerful.


I think that;
"but that is neither here or there"
is a bit of a weak line and doesn't really add much to the poem. I'd either find something more direct and stronger, or omit it entirely.

Hope this helps.

Jas

I like it - but could you make some lines a little shorter for dramatic effect? just a suggestion

Thanks, Jasmine. Jemima: which lines?

Hi HelpyPanty (too lazy to type in your whole username),

Helpful McHelpfulpants wrote:You did not long consider the clear shallow water hemming the river,

I dun get it. Water doesn't hem rivers...water is in rivers. Either there's something really deep and profound going on here that I missed or you need to change your description.

And even if there was a reason you mentioned it this way, it comes off more as a mistake than an intention in the reader's eye, so keep that in mind.

or the texture of the shining grit that you would walk away with,

Shining grit? Really? Grit is something I'd expect to be lower on the scale, an urban smoky passion and a metallic grating heartbeat, not something illuminated by the heavens. Again, description collision.

stolen in pinches stuck between toes. You were busy admiring the willow tree
that bent under your hand, and the soft haze of pale, feathery leaves
delineated by black branches, and the medicinal smells of bark,
that you thought would peel off pains that caressed you like a second skin.

This section rambles too much. "That, that, that". It's not aesthetic; well, it is in the beginning, but really starts to drag midway through the second line until the reader is on his knees, begging for at least a period or a stanza break somewhere in there. The meaning is lost in the journey, so change that in any way you want.

I was the river god, for a moment, with my trousers rolled up to my knees, and knew better;
but that was there, not here. Here, when you ask me for a cup of water and another pill
I'll bring both to your bed, and wait a little while at your side.

Nice ending, although the whole "river god" part was overblown. Being a god is quite a serious affair, I'm sure. If you wanted to self-elevate at the end, then you should have built up to it. Instead, it stagnates in the beginning and middle and suddenly "I was the river god" hits us like electroshock therapy. Either take that part out or make it so that the poem crescendos to the divine imagery.

Hope that helped.