Between the Lines #4 ~ Water
My selection of water themed poems from the anthology 'Ourselves in Rivers and Oceans' published by The Wee Sparrow Poetry Press.
‘Between the Lines’ is a series where I share poems I have enjoyed from other poets and/or written myself — taking an informal look at construction, meaning and personal resonance.
Following on from the last ‘Between the Lines’ I’ve selected three poems to share by fellow poets featured in the ‘Ourselves in Rivers and Oceans’ anthology I was also published within.
Halfway Down the Water Slide - by Aaron Sandberg
Aaron captures the longing for the simpler times of our younger years amidst the pressures of modern adulthood beautifully, with the joy of a waterslide serving as the poem’s metaphor. He describes having ‘no lifeguard back then to make sure we came out all right in the end’, possibly hinting at the common grown-up concern of not really knowing what we are doing most of the time, just floundering around without supervision hoping for a good outcome.
The imagery of children crashing into one another flying down the slide ‘I took the shock of the first kid who took the brunt of the one after him. So on. And so on.’ builds a picture of how overwhelming life can be, the sense that it’s just one problem after another piling onto a person.
The last lines describing how he can hear the world with ‘screaming lungs and kicking feet slowly building up behind.’ caused me to consider in their poignancy just how quickly we are thrown down the slide of ageing, only to land in the deep end of relentless roles and responsibilities.
The poem left the laughter of children in my ears. A great read.
Minute - By Kelli Weldon
My initial reaction to this poem was “Oh my God, THIS is how I feel right now”. The adaption to not having a minute to myself with a young baby, although expected, could not be fully appreciated in its raw intensity until I was in it. I seem to always be bartering to meet my basic needs, always asking for ‘a minute’ to make a quick dash to the toilet when in fact like the poem says ‘I really need weeks to stay still’.
The seashell metaphor evokes a craving for time to oneself so intense, that becoming an inanimate object holds a curious appeal. The line ‘make me a seashell whorled and strong’ alluding to the strength that isn’t felt. The seashell also wears the passing of time well, gently even. It is ‘curved by the ages that passed’ denoting the opposite to be true for the poem’s protagonist. This all adds to an atmosphere of quiet desperation, a pleading for time and space, to be allowed to be anything but who they are with ‘something clean, something by the ocean’.
I’m a lizard and well known for my love of sunbathing, so the final image of being ‘something by the ocean that lies in the sun alone and burns’ has huge appeal to me, but I also noted a hint of self-destruction in the use of burning as the final action. The subject is not lying in the sun alone ‘bathing’ or ‘sleeping’ — there is a violence to the final line that stayed with me after reading. I was left questioning how close the poem’s request for solitude was to a total annihilation of the self.
A powerful piece disguised within initially calming connotations of seashells and lapping waves.
Water for Conor - By Michael Farry
I love the gentleness weaved throughout this poem. Not only the love and care felt from a grandfather towards his grandson, as he waters the garden oblivious to the specifics of this mini eco-system — but the reverence afforded towards the seasons ‘If these survive the winter I’ll take spring cuttings’, and the acceptance of potential future disasters ‘Someday, when water is more precious’.
The garden serves as a charming symbol of the passing of time, ageing and our sense of mortality. The birth/death cycle is captured within the line ‘unaware of the quick turnover, how year after year I lose perinneals’.
I found the closing of the poem resonated deeply with me. My paternal grandfather was a keen gardener and I remember spending hours with him, as a young child, tending to its needs. This included a very wild section behind the pond leading up to the back of the Dunstable Downs — where he didn’t garden per se, rather shaped nature in its own unique expression.
So I do remember “how good our garden was, when it seemed grandfathers could do everything.” and keep that memory beside the later ones where the capabilities of an elder naturally fade, just like Farry’s “vivid annuals” in the poem.
A piece that provided a trip down memory lane and after thoughts about the nature of impermanence. A delight.
Writing/Thought Prompt
Comment below if you’d like to share :)
When you think of water in relation to your life where do you find yourself? What was happening in your life at that time and place? Is the water in sync with what is occurring for you, or does it provide an opposite to consider?
My writing is free to access. If you enjoy my work you can always gift a coffee as a small show of appreciation — maternity leave seems to involve a lot of hot drink/cake establishments!
Jade x