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Rural England's knell



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Fri Jan 06, 2012 9:32 pm
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Izzy says...



I walk along the silent winter lane,
Hands in denim pockets, nostrils wide,
The clouds above begin to signal rain,
But still, I feel no need to be inside.
The branches form a tunnel overhead,
Creaking boughs; my oak triumphal arch,
I dream about a history left for dead,
Hear echoes of the hobnailed boots on march.
If I just keep my vision to the way,
I could be walking through another age,
Rolling fields of flint and chalky clay,
My boots a print upon an Austen page...

A five speed hum slides by and breaks the spell,
It sounds to me like rural England's knell.
Last edited by Izzy on Sat Jan 07, 2012 8:26 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Wisdom is knowing not to put it in a fruit salad.
  





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Fri Jan 06, 2012 9:42 pm
Snoink says...



Ooers, I really really liked this.

You did very well because you had all these specific examples and you had awesome visionary and... let's face it... going on walks is fun. So, you have a really neat subject.

Plus, the very fact that you wrote this in sonnet form is amazing and I love you for it. Especially since sonnets are so... beautiful and traditional and old-fashioned, so it really works in your favor.

The only thing that I think you might consider doing is to adjust the lining of your sonnet. I mean... this isn't quite traditional, but I would rather see something like this happen:

I walk along the silent winter lane,
Hands in denim pockets, nostrils wide,
The clouds above begin to signal rain,
Though I feel no need to be inside,
The branches form a tunnel overhead,
I pass beneath my oak triumphal arch,
I dream about a history left for dead,
Hear echoes of the hobnailed boots on march,
If I keep my vision to the way,
I could be walking through another age,
Rolling fields of flint and chalky clay,
My boots a print upon an Austen page...

A five speed hum slides by and breaks the spell,
Though still eclipsed by rural England's knell.


So, it's still in sonnet form, but it has a kind of modern break which kind of jars you out. And I really think this can work in your particular piece because you start to get so old-fashioned and everything, and then that line jars us out. So, you can use format to make this even more abrupt.

Just an idea! Nice poem. :)
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"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly." ~ Richard Bach

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25 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 815
Reviews: 25
Fri Jan 06, 2012 10:06 pm
Izzy says...



That's a great idea, thanks!
Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit.
Wisdom is knowing not to put it in a fruit salad.
  








But even the worst decisions we make don't necessarily remove us from the circle of humanity.
— Wes Moore, The Other Wes Moore