Morning Fog

In the murky pre-dawn,

The

clouds

fell.

Obscuring distant objects,

Forcing focus on those close,

Muffling morning clamor –

Listen to the vaporous summons

Interspersed with birdsong,

Heed the invitation

To whisper hymns

While swathed by mist

Among the cloaked trees.

***See previous post for the inspiration for this piece.***

9 Comments

Filed under Poetry

9 responses to “Morning Fog

  1. I love the “the/clouds/fell” part!

  2. I like the way the poem shifts from the generality of the fog, to its effect, muffling the clamor, therefore allowing the birdsong to be heard. Now that I am writing it out, that’s pretty idyllic, Mark. And I love that your speaker says “whisper hymns” rather than sing. Fog would require the whispering.

    Two things: As you are interested in publication, you need to move to the contemporary convention of not capitalising the first letter of each line unless it begins a sentence. And, change the full stop to a comma after ‘fell’ or change the verb forms of the next few lines. Your ear will catch it when you reread.

    margo

    • Revised:

      Without notice
      in the murky night,
      the
      clouds
      fell,
      obscuring distance,
      forcing a closer focus,
      muffling morning clamor.
      Hear the vaporous summons
      interspersed with birdsong,
      heed the invitation
      to whisper hymns,
      while swathed by mist
      Amongst the shrouded trees.

      **still some more to be done…don’t care for the first line….’ No one noticed as’, ‘with no one to notice”, delete altogether? hhmmm

      • Active instead of passive. You are a natural.
        In the murky night
        the
        clouds
        fell,
        Yes? I realised that no one noticing isn’t relevant to the poem…

        margo

      • Or reversed?
        The
        clouds
        fell
        in the murky night.

      • Here is the effect I get with the two. With your original I feel the falling because you end with the image. With the newer possibility, “in the murky night” looks like a foundation and blocks the illusion of falling. Now, that’s my mind. Ultimately you are the writer and the poem is your creation.

        What happened to work?

        margo

  3. I love the atmosphere you create here!

  4. Hey Mark, I noticed! I love this poem, but then again, I am a fog nut.

    Sara

  5. I love the picture it so wonderfully paints for the reader!

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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