[John Riley]

Revision

The Returner

The Returner stops, looks around,
is familiar with his surroundings.
I open a window and slip out
before he steps through the door

to wander slowly, room to room,
circle throughout the house
while I lean against the smooth bark
of the red oak’s thick trunk

that stands in graceless majesty,
a growth on the small lawn,
that asks with its shifting limbs
if fear is to be allowed back in,

then says it all may only be a theory
after the returner finishes his circle,
that perhaps I should write an essay
about why men turned hats away

or of a tree that never leans
covered with things that lift,
dust on green summer leaves,
snails on a first slow climb.


***


The Returner

The Returner stops and looks around
before he enters my home.
I open a window and slip outside
before he steps through the door

to wander slowly, room to room,
circle throughout the house.
I lean against the smooth bark
of the thick trunk of the red oak

that stands in graceless majesty,
an old growth on the small lawn,
and asks me with its shifting limbs
if fear will be allowed back in,

then says fear may only be a theory
after the Returner finishes his circle
and I should write an essay while I wait
about why men turned hats away

or of a tree that never leans
and is covered with things that lift,
dust on green summer leaves,
snails on a first slow climb.

[John Riley]

I made some changes before the first comment. The best thing about posting poems is how it focuses my eye.

[Nick McRae]

Originally Posted by John Riley

The Returner

The Returner stops and looks around
before he enters my home.
I open a window and slip outside
before he steps through the door

to wander slowly, room to room,
circle throughout the house.
I lean against the smooth bark
of the thick trunk of the red oak

that stands in graceless majesty,
an old growth on the small lawn,
and asks me with its shifting limbs
if fear will be allowed back in,

then says fear may only be a theory
after the Returner finishes his circle
and I should write an essay while I wait
about why men turned hats away

or of a tree that never leans
and is covered with things that lift,
dust on green summer leaves,
snails on a first slow climb.

John, this is an interesting poem that held my attention. A few points come to mind:

- I wonder if the word highlighted in red could be omitted

- I'm unsure about the capitalization of the word 'Returner'. Typically capitalization of a word that usually isn't capitalized invokes some kind of deity or supernatural presence to me. Is that your intent? There's nothing wrong with it, but something to think about.

- I'm having trouble wrapping my head around the line in blue or the meaning of 'hats'. I can accept a word that can't be parsed literally, but 'hats' just doesn't add much in terms of sonics or meaning to me.

- I wonder if the term 'Returner' and syntax surrounding it could use some paint. My take is that the poem is about fear and your relationship with it. The Returner may be you lost in the usual rituals of anxiety and apprehension, while the enlightened you slips out the window. It's hard to put my finger on, but I think you've got a beautiful poem about fear here but are maybe just not quite at it's essence yet, if not most of the way there. Maybe my only real complaint is about S1 which isn't quite as vibrant as the other stanzas. And the term 'Returner' just feels a little non-poetic, although I wonder what would happen if you removed the caps.

Some food for thought.

[Rick Mullin]

Hi John,

I like this.

While over-modifying is usually frowned on, I like this stretch because it leans so far into adjectives:

I lean against the smooth bark
of the thick trunk of the red (arguably) oak

that stands in graceless majesty,
an old (arguably) growth on the small lawn,
and asks me with its shifting limbs


They are all adding something, and the net effect is a cross between the daunting details of reality and N's detailed observation.

I, too, find that once a poem is posted on line, I get to work. "Jesus! People are looking at this!"

Rick

[John Riley]

Thanks for the help Nick and Rick. I agree it was over-modified and did a slight revision. It's a little tighter now I think.

It's clearly a poem that personifies feelings returning that aren't welcome. The tree recommending he write an essay about men giving up hats is a way for the narrator to fill time with frivolity and hopefully keep the Returner away. (Nick, he is an individual.) I remember reading when Kennedy didn't wear a hat to his inauguration, or anywhere else, that it put the kibosh on the fedora.

I don't often talk about a poem's topic. I thought this one may work better for critiques if more was known of what I intended.

Thanks again.

[Nick McRae]

Originally Posted by John Riley

The tree recommending he write an essay about men giving up hats is a way for the narrator to fill time with frivolity and hopefully keep the Returner away. (Nick, he is an individual.) I remember reading when Kennedy didn't wear a hat to his inauguration, or anywhere else, that it put the kibosh on the fedora.

I wonder if there might be a clearer way to express that. It's a good line / concept, just not sure I'd get that out of it as is.

[John Riley]

Thanks for coming back, Nick. Perhaps I will think of something else of less importance for an essay suggestion.

[Trevor Conway]

Hi John,

For what it's worth, this didn't really engage me until the last two stanzas. It felt very generic to me up until that point. Then, it got interesting with the essay and the hats. The mention of fear was also potentially interesting, at least if it's explored more.

Anyway, I hope my take on it is useful in some way. Feel free to ask any questions.

Thanks for sharing.

Trevor

Originally Posted by John Riley

Revision

The Returner

The Returner stops, looks around,
is familiar with his surroundings.
I open a window and slip out
before he steps through the door

to wander slowly, room to room,
circle throughout the house
while I lean against the smooth bark
of the red oak’s thick trunk

that stands in graceless majesty,
a growth on the small lawn,
that asks with its shifting limbs
if fear is to be allowed back in,

then says it all may only be a theory
after the returner finishes his circle,
that perhaps I should write an essay
about why men turned hats away

or of a tree that never leans
covered with things that lift,
dust on green summer leaves,
snails on a first slow climb.


***


The Returner

The Returner stops and looks around
before he enters my home.
I open a window and slip outside
before he steps through the door

to wander slowly, room to room,
circle throughout the house.
I lean against the smooth bark
of the thick trunk of the red oak

that stands in graceless majesty,
an old growth on the small lawn,
and asks me with its shifting limbs
if fear will be allowed back in,

then says fear may only be a theory
after the Returner finishes his circle
and I should write an essay while I wait
about why men turned hats away

or of a tree that never leans
and is covered with things that lift,
dust on green summer leaves,
snails on a first slow climb.

[John Riley]

Thanks for commenting, Trevor. It looks as though what I’ve wanted to do with the beginning slips past. I’m glad you like the conclusion.