Cinderella river

Gold cherry

By littleditty

Sun, 10 May 2020
  • 5571 reads
17 comments
 

Beauty weaves from ugly threads

and back again to mud.

Who would have thought clay is oh so fine

knowing sand is oh so coarse?

Mining for gold is a not a pan full of guilt

and a pan full of silt. This is an ancient guild,

heading upriver to lowlands

where chalk streams rock spring,

reminding us

of where we were just now,

not of where we’ve been,

 

wading the watercress beds,

tangling our ankles. We shouldn’t have been there

then. But now, when the catkins flower

and seedpods on top sail downriver, we can remark

on how this one shakes and this one shivers,

spinners crazed, the fluff dancers dizzle,

the wind to them a blur of noise – and of those

that glide, awe and grace on their silvery tipped backs of down - 

it is time, to tell of The Mimram and The Bean,

reclaim all vocabulary that had run dry.

 

When it is too early, hunger-stone warnings

sing gravel voiced about poverty and disease – but

when our Cinderella rivers bloom,

the clearest train of thought flows through the chalk walkways,

receding inwards or moving on,

making the path of least resistance seem easy.

 

Is it then we should talk of slicing rock, of mud; of settling?

For what damage could these new words do

if not used before the gush of rain?

The clay beds lift with the slightest ripple,

the catkin are surrounded, like new-born chicks tugged under.

Flocculation weighs too much,

that sticky grip of clay ancestor, efficient as pike.

 

There may be time later, when spring rivers run dry in Summer

to discuss the efficiency of the hexagon, and its resistance.

Reaching an equilibrium early,

when there is so much left to say before the fall,

is the unsettled matter, and the rock.

 

Sitting by the river, panning the silt,

when it is time to say nothing at all.

 

 

5/2020

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hrHNazNfORU

Rivers Run

Certificate U
Poem
Sometimes, only paint will do.

Comments

Submitted by onemorething on

All so wonderful. Love gravel voices and dry vocabulary and efficient pike and clay ancestors. Loved all of it. Rachel :)

 

Submitted by littleditty on

Thank you Rachel - gravel voices and dry vocabulary and efficient pike and clay ancestors indeed! Glad you liked :)

 

Submitted by Ed Crane on

I may well come back with more to say on this delicious piece when I've had time to digest the delicate flavours. 

Lovely!

Ed

 

Submitted by littleditty on

Thank you for reading and your lovely comment :)

 

Submitted by Ed Crane on

There seems to be some very good poems on here recently, but I have to say this is one of the best poems I have ever read on here. If it doesn't make poem of the month there's no justice.

Anyway, that aside, what struck me is the picture you paint here. I don't know where you live, but this poem shouts South Downs very loudly to me. I spend many holidays with my cousins in West Sussex as a kid and later lived in West Berkshire close to the Wessex Downs and spent a lot of my leasure time in the counties around there. Crystal clear chalk streams where I walked and the wild watercress (probably escaped from somewhere) that grew in the streams around Watership Down and those areas. It all came back to me when I read your words.

The sparking gravel streams and the naughty pike that snaffled duckings and pinched my fish as I reeled it in. It all was there. Maybe the reason I like this poem so much is because of all these things, but even so, there is no doubting, this is a wonderful exquisitely worded poem. 

Thanks

Ed

 

 

Submitted by littleditty on

the south east is chalk , and a world chalk stream hotspot! - this is Hertfordhire's version - east side of Chiltern hills? Same as you describe, the source of the river Mimram, and the river Bean - flows if there is a flow into the river Lea, more my locale. Watercress beds are cool - would like to see them all green.Thanks for your comment - glad you enjoyed it. Nicky

 

Submitted by Ed Crane on

Certainly the Lea goes through a number of changes. She has a tough time before she hooks up with big Daddy Thames 

 

Submitted by littleditty on

downhill from there!  Nature reserves everywhere along the top of the Lea - lakes. Nice!

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

I love the idea of beauty being weaved from ugly threads, it kind of sums up the harshness of nature.

There's some wonderful lines in your poem that pay homage to the place you describe, even though I've never been there.

Definitely a class A poem.

Jenny.

 

Submitted by littleditty on

Yes, it started with that and Spring took care of the rest! Cheers.

 

Submitted by Di_Hard on

I love this, didn't know watercress beds still existed :

"wading the watercress beds,

tangling our ankles"

What does "fluff dancers dizzle" mean? I love how it sounds! Dizzle is a brilliant word I have not read before, suggested a mixture of dazzle and dizzy?

"of those that glide, awe and grace on their silvery tipped backs of down" made me think of the careful balancing of baby waterbirds. Love "awe and grace"

"sticky grip of clay ancestor" is chilling

A vivid, involving description of place, really enjoyed the sense of changing ground and light and water

 

Submitted by littleditty on

Yes, the movement of catkins down the river...just like baby birds...before a pike! some glide some shiver some fluff and dizzle! More than dizzy- i edited..you're prob right with dazzle... street word for drugs...some are fluffy and dizzling...dancers spinning about! Glad you liked. Thanks for reading.

 

Submitted by Parson Thru on

Hi littleditty. A lovely thoughtful poem. It really put me in touch with the spirit of spring renewal. It flows like those chalk streams. I used to visit the Chilterns a lot when we lived in North London. Stokenchurch was a popular hang out, and a circular walk around there. I don't remember the names, but I remember a picnic in a particularly grassy field. The only Lea I knew was the industrial estate in Stratford where I did some contract driving. Thanks for jogging these memories with your lovely poem and the discussion after.

Parson Thru

Submitted by littleditty on

mostly when the Olympics were being built/happening/happened...That's the Lea, downriver Lea.

 

Submitted by Parson Thru on

I haven't been back, but I think they built most of that on the thriving industrial estate.

Parson Thru

Submitted by onemorething on

I have been back to read this wonderful poem a number of times for the light and shade in its imagery and metaphor, and for how it reads as if it is full of secrets. It is our Facebook and Twitter Pick of the Day. Please do share if you like it too. 

littleditty - I liked the pike so chose this picture from pixabay. Please feel free to change it though.

 

Submitted by littleditty on

this poem say...it's been a month :Oo  Cheers for the pick and the pike :)