Sing me St. Henry's Tower
Sing me the bell-home
Gone now but for memory, for photograph
Sing me all the vanished places
And the still-living
The gardens, carved slices
Of England, China, Japan
Where paths wind far father than they should
Sing me the night carnival
Of catwalks, steel spirals,
Castle gargoyles, concrete serpents
Sing me the fountain flanked by stones
Posing as ruins
Far older than they are
Sing me the collected pretenses
Of another age
And today's dreams
Waiting to be birthed by your song.
And a gracious good morning to you.
I loved your poem, but as Chris isn't here to point it out let me say (with all due gentleness and reverence) that I believe the leading line in the last stanza might be better served by reading: Sing me the collected pretenses
The word collected implies more than one. (Unless you are trying to imply that pretense is a collective noun.) Also, as two lines down you use the word dreams this would reinforce the idea of multiplicity.
As always, lost in the land of awe.
Fletcher
You are exactly right, and I have revised accordingly.
Posted by: eshtine at June 5, 2003 09:37 PM