August 2010 Options

[Guest_bombadil1247_*]

August 2010

The chestnuts dropped early this year
scattered like tiny mines beneath the trees
catching kids walking barefoot unawares.
Retribution was swift; hundreds of shells
were smashed open and the treasures inside
threaded on string - war trophies for display
and final destruction in an orgy of ‘Conkers’.

Summer passed, unnoticed, with no obituary;
the art of reading nature long forgotten
in this pushbutton age that programs time
to suit the schedules of industry and Sky TV.
Automatons and zombies vie for recognition
as archetype of this Brave New World
where technology rules and men obey.

‘Computer Error’ hides a multitude of sins
though computers are only as fallible
as their data clerks – are the seasons out of sync
because of human error? Some would say so
and I won’t argue overmuch; a sin of omission
is still a sin no matter what excuse is offered
nor what tribunals may say in expiation.

Mary died last week and I didn’t know
until her hearse paused outside my door
allowing a silent, last farewell – I had no tears,
just shock and deep regret for all the wasted years
since last we talked of silly things like bus schedules
and dogs’ mess in her garden. Her garden where
white carnations thrived on the love she shared so freely.

They went with her to the crematorium and mourned
when I could not. I lost that right through indifference.

[Guest_bombadil1247_*]

Hi, Eisa,

thanks for stopping by, always appreciated. This wasn't meant to be deep, maybe I need to rework s.3 - the 'mea culpa' lines - to make this more accessible, more in my reply to Liz below. It is a personal piece though and Mary was a real friend once.
Jim.

Hi Liz,

thanks for that very full cririque. I know that this will need a good overhaul eventually but not up to that at the moment, still a bit fragile with the subject. S.3 is the exception, I need to be clearer in that one because that's the heart of this piece. Perhaps there is a subconscious obfuscation of meaning there, certainly enough for you to doubt its relevance. The 'computer error' referenced is mine, spending too long at the screen playing games, hence the 'data clerk'. This is also the human error that put the seasons out of sync - I just lost touch with my neighbours and time flew past, lost forever - the sin of omission was mine. The 'tribunal' is Christine and the kids; their 'defence' is that I was ill and just wasn't able to walk the avenue the way I used to in years gone by. I used to be secretary of our local community council and found that going out chatting was a better way to keep on top of concerns than waiting for a letter of complaint - Mary was one of those who were always out in their garden when I passed and we talked often and became good friends. When her cortege stopped outside my gate I hadn't even known she was ill. That last goodbye should be seen as mine by the way, hadn't thought of the reading that she might be the valedictorian. Maybe with that additional information readers will be able to offer crits to help me show that sense of, if not guilt, certainly contributory negligence I'm trying to bring out in that strophe. On form, I've posted in FV because I didn't want to let 'mechanics' get in the way - there is no conscious effort to maintain structure, just a desire to express my feelings on this.
Jim