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I've been spending a lot of time lately, what with my commute to work and all, staring at the TTC's Poetry On the Way posters. The other day I found myself trying to rewrite M. NourbSe Philip's The Hold-Up. Never mind that she's an award-winning poet and I'm not - those last two lines don't do it for me, rhythmically. Here's the poem:
Stripped of leaves,
Surprised --
the trees scrape the grey winter sky
with veined brittle arms.
Eventually I put together a version with the words only slightly rearranged:
Stripped of leaves,
Surprised --
trees scrape at the winter sky
with brittle, grey-veined arms.
Anybody else want a go?
Stripped of leaves,
Surprised --
the trees scrape the grey winter sky
with veined brittle arms.
Eventually I put together a version with the words only slightly rearranged:
Stripped of leaves,
Surprised --
trees scrape at the winter sky
with brittle, grey-veined arms.
Anybody else want a go?
