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Poetry
Freudian Field Day
By NathanRoberts
05 March 2008

My earliest memory is one of loss.
Standing shoulder to waist and stretching,
with an elder brother, through wrought iron gates,
to a place out of reach of an infant grasp.

A toy plastic hammer: soft, non-functional,
filled with coloured beads and empty promises,
a little boy's attempt to mimic the world of men;
now sits unrecoverable, another swallowed victim.

How many others fell into that hollow, derelict casing?
Erected, like a huge empty phallus, no longer providing
anything but shadows, drawn out to over-run,
and the weight of an absent father, questioning
the earliest memory that I own: Windmill Hill,
nineteen seventy one.

Reviews

Written by Veronica_Milvus (749 comments posted) 5th March 2008
Hi Nathan 
We are getting a very clear picture of something very painful and personal here. There are so many hints and associations in some of the wording. 
 
You are not so far away from good iambic pentameter here, if you fancied having a go at getting your poem into a true metrical form. 
 
I think I might change the title. If you called it "Windmill Hill" we would get a clearer sense of the scene. I take it the riuned windmill is the "hollow, derelict casing". The current title sounds a bit apologetic and much more technical than the boy's memories that you describe in the poem. 
 
The imagery of the windmill and of the hammer are really powerful. A really brave poem.

Written by NathanRoberts (277 comments posted) 5th March 2008
Thankyou VM.  
 
A self-deprecating humour or a wry smile is how I tend to deal with my emotional admissions - I guess that's just my style.  
 
The more I thought about the scene it just hit me...how a psychoanalyst like Freud would symbolise the toy hammer and the derelict windmill and all that made it's way into the poem.  
 
It's not a painful memory (although I obviously reacted strongly at the time, for it to imprint itself)...it was just a toy after all, but i was imagining what would unravel on the couch.....there is deeper stuff there... 
 
As for iambic pentameter...I'm into looser stuff at the moment, prose/poetry or free verse...not sure what you'd call it, (I'm discovering contemporary stuff like Paul Farley and Robin Robertson at the moment ...loving it), also trying a bit of slant rhyme - to add cohesiveness and flow. Listen to me...2 weeks ago I didn't even know what an iambus was! 
 
 
 

Written by Veronica_Milvus (749 comments posted) 5th March 2008
I will check out the poets you mention! 
 
It's a very spooky, dream-like image to me, of the two boys, the small one dropping the hammer, running away from the windmill. Shot with polarising filter and small boys wearing 1950s long shorts (yes, I know you said 1971).
liked thi -- Freud or no !
Written by patterjack (1433 comments posted) 5th March 2008
I'll send you pm about this if that's okay with you -- when I get the time !!!!  
 
A minor niggle or two only . 
 
patterjack

Written by NathanRoberts (277 comments posted) 6th March 2008
VM: Probably wearing short shorts and sandals if photos from the period are anything to go by! Also, Hamburg era Beatle cuts (hairdressers round are way weren't exactly avant garde)- yet to evolve into the hideous 'long haired lover' look of the mid seventies. 
 
PJ:Thanks..some great constructive pointers in your PM(to work on) and minor editing points / grammatical errors, now amended. 
 

Written by Phil (6959 comments posted) 7th March 2008
Earliest memories - now there's a topic and half.  
 
Liked this Nathan. Like Veronica, I felt this had painful/unpleasant undertones. It's one that paints its picture easily as you read. 
 
Phil

Written by Brett (983 comments posted) 7th March 2008
I like this, Nathan, and I think that your writing shows a new maturity. You've been doing some homework, mate. 
Cheers 
Brett

Written by Josie (2845 comments posted) 8th March 2008
Welcome to Great Writing Nathan 
I agree with the others above, and I liked the images you brought out in your poem. I do hope you'll join in the fun we'll have in our workshop. You never know if you like anything unless you try it.

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