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    dots Submission Name: The taste of Sequoiadots

    Author: comradenessie
    Elite Ratio:    6.5 - 626/539/110
    Words: 197
    Class/Type: Poetry/
    Total Views: 1242
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1218

       Thanks to nan for her helpful comment and helpful suggestion. Is this any better?

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsThe taste of Sequoiadots

    Great trees tower above me
    as I lay on Ashton Court grass
    What a word to curl around the tongue.
    Taste the syllables in your mouth.
    What a beautiful sound
    and how strange
    to find a Californian redwood
    in an English country house garden.

    They circle the ornamental pond
    where the yellow irises grow
    and cast their reflection in the water.
    Only two hundred years old
    young yet for a Sequoia.

    Many of our own oaks
    even some in this park
    are older. I f their leaves
    make a sound in the wind
    they are too far away,
    I cannot hear them
    alone, lost in silence
    beneath the sequoia

    The base of their trunks
    would make a dining-room table for ten
    but what a desecration
    to cut one down.
    My mind cannot comprehend
    their older cousins.

    Their branches lean towards me
    as I lay in the afternoon sun
    the interplay of light creates
    a thousand shades of green.
    How strange the bark is
    How parchment dry
    to the touch of my fingers.

    Submitted on 2006-08-25 12:47:57     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      wonderful...having grown up around sequoias ( native to the region of California where i grew up, they were planted in suburbia near houses, where by the time I was 20 the foundations were being squeezed up and out of the way...and so the baby giants, only 75 years old or so often came crashing down after the chain saws ripped the air, leaving a huge gap in the familiar edge of the sky.
    The wood has a particular smell.
    the needles or leaves are amazingly adapted to trap the moisture in fog into a condesate, where it drips from them into the soil to water the behemoths...either 80 or 800 gallons a night...and the roots do not extend out beyond the rather narrow circumpherance of the branches...so they are shallow rooted and apt to tip if their environment is disturbed,.
    There aree groves of ancient Redwoods so wonderfully preserved from the lumber boom of the 1850's to the 1920's where their silent presence surrounds and dwarfs us tiny humans.

    A wonderful poem, I quite liked it all. Brava...an odd corner of the brain in a talented woman sparked a poem into life which made a gabby middle aged guy in California want to share his sense of wonder spawned by Sequoia relatives of a tree in an English garden.
    | Posted on 2006-12-14 00:00:00 | by koster | [ Reply to This ]
      Ah Nessie,

    You capture the moment, the one the poet recognizes and writes about. It is both a decree of thanks for the moment and experience and then writing about it is the act of sharing.

    Beautiful, I thought I was right there with you. *deep sigh*
    The only sense I don't think you covered is hearing, and if there was something pleasant to record it might be nice to know.

    They circle the ornamental pond
    where the yellow irises grow
    and cast their reflection in the water.
    Only two hundred years old
    young yet for a
    many of our own oaks
    even some in this park
    (like the Doomsday Oak)
    are older.

    In this strophe you have me intrigued by the sight of water and irises, a comment about how old the Sequoia is, but going further into facts seems to destroy my dreamy splendor. Maybe this is where the idea of sound could go.. if leaves make sound in the wind it must be far away?

    And that is truly nit picking, because the piece is beautiful just as it is. Thanks for the experience, too.


    | Posted on 2006-10-19 00:00:00 | by nansofast | [ Reply to This ]
      This is really good.
    Imagery: This has some great imagery in it. I can picture a little garden with a big tree in the middle of it, surrounded by pretty, delicate flowers in a variety of yellows, reds and blues. Also, this appeals to the senses, in that you describe the touch and such. It really makes this poem come to life.
    Changes: I don't think that any changes have to be madee. Maybe double check punctuation, but I think it is pretty good.
    Questions: I have no clue what Sequoia is, but I am going to guess that is the type of tree that you are descirbing here.
    Overall: Excellent job at evertihng here.
    | Posted on 2006-10-14 00:00:00 | by Caotic_Disaster | [ Reply to This ]
      It sounds like country :-) . It's great.
    | Posted on 2006-08-26 00:00:00 | by Porcelaine | [ Reply to This ]
      Trees. I'm in the city right now, at a netcafe. I just went to One Tree Hill and wrote about that-- but the thing is, the tree got chopped down by an activist... anyways, totally off the point (I'll show you that poem later lol)... what I was meaning to say was 'synchronicity'. Weird stuff. Anyhoo, carrying on...

    You've got the perfect blend of imagery and emotive play in this poem-- to me anyhow. "Taste the syllables in your mouth" is an example-- just lovely. I like the play between an American Sequoia growing in an English park-- besides the literal aspect, it also carries personal interpretations for everyone: cross-pollination, ideas, the dynamics of culture in a nutshell.

    Well, can't stay on here forever... time is running out for me... eek lol.

    Lovely imagery Ness.


    | Posted on 2006-08-25 00:00:00 | by alteredlife | [ Reply to This ]

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