There Is No Oasis

I really enjoyed this poem, in particular many of the nature-based phrases like "to tilt the coolness of tilled earth" and "the air weighted with leaves". I also really enjoyed the idea at the start and end of the poem about longing to be doing something else while working.

I found some of the flow a little disjointed. The word "sluice" in the third stanza didn't quite work for me as it didn't match the ideas of hard work out in the open (plowing) or the shaded grove imagery. And although I really liked the phrase "a susurration wreathed around my speech", I felt it didn't quite fit in with the undisturbed pool. Then I was a little confused by the reference to your brother and father - it made me wonder if the brother had died and the father was grieving this, but it was a very fleeting reference to such a big topic, that again didn't quite seem to fit in with the theme of the rest of the poem.

It was quite long with some bits not really progressing the ideas - you could combine and shorten stanzas 3,4 and 5 for instance.

Having said all that, I still really enjoyed it and maybe the meandering nature of the poem adds to the idea of day-dreaming about not having to work.

I'm not a very good poet/analyst, but I figured I'd go through each stanza and pick out what I get from them, so you can have an outsider perspective? To summarize, your scenery is absolutely beautiful, and really evokes the sense of longing.

In the middle of work
I reach for texts in secret

These lines feel a little disjointed for me as they're very present in the now, free of any of the scenery or metaphors used in later parts of the poem. Maybe it's because two lines have been dedicated to them? Or maybe they're supposed to stand out for contrast?

As if in indolence
I could flip an hourglass
To tilt the coolness
Of tilled earth
And receive the air
Weighted with leaves

This is absolutely beautiful imagery, and it's easy for us a reader to get that need for reprieve from the words. The line "weighted with leaves" however almost gives me a sense of smothering, as if the air is no longer as pure as it would otherwise have been.

A draft of words decanted
From a sluice between
Where the sun cannot fall
And my toil cannot reach

Is this missing its opening line, or is it referencing the texts in the first stanza? The scenery is beautiful but I find it's missing a line, or imagery relating to the words, to put it into the correct context after two stanzas on the tilled fields.

If I return with gifts
Let their weight be subtle
On my shoulders
An undisturbed pool
Behind my eyes
A susurration wreathed
Around my speech

This is a nice joining of the two "halves" of the poem - the one more focused on the conversation and the other more focused on the tilled earth imagery. I particularly like the last two lines of this. I think it reads beautifully.

Let them be more bearable signs
Of the voice that fell upon me
In that idleness
To speak more fully
Beneath the boughs

Is this referencing the struggles to talk correctly? "The voice that fell upon me" hints that there's something wrong it, as if you've just had to accept your lot. Additionally, "beneath the boughs" and the accompanying plosive alliteration really gives the sense of hardship.

Of words that settled with
The dampness of evening
Or perched in flocks, surveilling
The alleys beneath their lines
Or fled at the edge of tall grass
Sloping to the freeway where
My brother lay

This stanza beautifully portrays what's wrong with the words. "Settled with / the dampness of evening" implies to me that the words are stagnant and unforthcoming. "Surveying the alleys beneath their lines" implies to me that the messages are either ending the conversation or forcing a conflict, as if the flocks are ready to attack what might come as a response. And the final line gives an insight into grief, implying the words were stolen by the death of a loved one.

Of the unformed
Ends of conversations
Where I’d wished to rend,
As open and oracular
As my father under
The face of grief but could
Only stand in its gloaming
Its fluorescence and hymns

Another stanza marrying the concepts of grief and the inability to continue these conversations. The alliteration through this is beautiful. "Open and oracular", "face of grief". Is there a hint of jealousy that the father was able to grieve openly in church, but the subject of the poem can't speak openly in even normal conversations?

Unable to join those
Less afraid of the work
Who knew their sight
Would sunder here
And behind closed eyelids
Sunder again
To reach for texts
That bloomed beyond longing

I really love the use of sibilance here, it gives me a sense of sadness, and highlights a jealousy for those around them that don't struggle. I particularly loved the last line, "that bloomed beyond longing". It ends the poem with a combination of the nature metaphors from earlier, but joins it with the sadness from later stanzas.

This was a beautiful read OP, thank you so much!

Susurration is one of my favorite words that I never hear!

Okay, let me think about the rest of the poem :-)

My very first thought was that this was going to be a joyful poem. About receiving happy texts:

In the middle of work I reach for texts in secret

I know it took a turn after that...

I like your use of tilt and tilled next to each other:

To tilt the coolness Of tilled earth

Lots of language here that I love and can really visualize:

The air weighted with leaves

A draft of words decanted From a sluice

An undisturbed pool Behind my eyes

A susurration wreathed Around my speech

Wow:

Of words that... perched in flocks, surveiling The alleys beneath their lines

This is beautiful. What I'm getting from it is that the narrator wishes they could fully experience and lean into and lose themselves into their grief, but they are unable, because they have to keep up appearances at work:

Where I’d wished to rend, As open and oracular As my father under The face of grief but could Only stand in its gloaming Its fluorescence and hymns

Unable to join

I haven't experienced directly the grief of losing a loved one, like I think this is about. But it's reminiscent to me of the fear and sadness the whole world is feeling related to the pandemic and everything else, and yet we all still have to get up in the morning and go to work.

Thank you for sharing it!

Hello readers, welcome to OCpoetry. This subreddit is a writing workshop community -- a place where poets of all skill levels can share, enjoy, and talk about each other's poetry. Every person who's shared, including the OP above, has given some feedback (those are the links in the post) and hopes to receive some in return (from you, the readers).

If you really enjoyed this poem and just want to drop a quick comment, to show some appreciation or give kudos, things like "great job!" or "made me cry", or "loved it" or "so relateable", please do. Everyone loves a compliment. Thanks for taking the time to read and enjoy.

If you want to share your own poem, you'll need to give this writer some detailed feedback. Good feedback explains from your point of view what it was like to read the poem, and then tries to explain how the poem made you feel like that. If you're not sure what that means, check out our feedback guide, or look through the comment sections of any other post here, or click the links to the author's feedback above. If you're not sure whether your comments are feedback, or you have any other questions, please send us a modmail.

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

[removed]