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Wednesday, 5 July 2017

Sketch

Claude Monet - The Beach at Sainte-Adresse

Sketch

The shadows of the ships
Rock on the crest
In the low blue lustre
Of the tardy and the soft inrolling tide.

A long brown bar at the dip of the sky
Puts an arm of sand in the span of salt.

The lucid and endless wrinkles
Draw in, lapse and withdraw.
Wavelets crumble and white spent bubbles
Wash on the floor of the beach.

Rocking on the crest
In the low blue lustre
Are the shadows of the ships. 

Carl Sandburg

Sandburg is a magician. He makes it look easy. He makes it look like nothing much is happening. He puts his reader into a trance. "The shadows of the ships", there, he's started already - the way he uses repetition of lines, of vowel sounds - if I even begin looking for things that tie together, that push and pull the meaning from the form, I come up with so many. Aside from all that is the sheer beauty of the image he conjures up, the back and forth feel of the lines - just like waves washing up on the beach. This poem is a word dance, it looks light and effortless, but has taken years of practice to achieve. It has the feeling of a haiku, almost, but with a lot more words. (If that makes any sense.)



 

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