Still on the subject of revision- Shorten that poem

 

Preparing a new volume of poems I am revisiting the old ones, many published on the blog. The Butter Road is one of these. It's not always a question of just shortening the poem but sometimes it is!

THE BUTTER ROAD

 

I'd say the road hasn't changed much two centuries on, 

still mossy- stoned underfoot, the ponies hooves must have sank 

in the ruts like ours, booted and sandal shod. I warned him 

about the terrain but he's fond of the pilgrim way though this

is no spiritual path. Here men and ponies toiled a week long return 

from Mizen head to Skibbereen to the Cork  Butter Exchange, loaded 

with two firkins of salted butter, thirty- six pounds apiece, bound 

for Spain and the West Indies and beyond, while we shuffle 

a lightweight backpack between us, water, chocolate- snacks 

for a day trek, stop to frame straggling fuchsia, burnished fern, a cottage

embalmed in ivy and bramble, and the so-called "idle bridge," 

built as relief work during the famine, leading nowhere, shouldering

failed hopes and bones, and listen to the same birds, the long-tailed tit flitting

from limb to limb, the rook setting up a din as we, in passing, disturb

those best left to rest in peace.

 

More of a prose poem

Here is the revision:

Mossy-stoned underfoot, the ponies hooves

 must have sank in the ruts

where they toiled a week long return 

from Mizen head to Skibbereen

to the Cork  Butter Exchange,

loaded with two firkins of salted butter,

thirty- six pounds apiece,

bound for Spain and the West Indies and beyond,

while we shuffle a lightweight backpack between us,

 stop to frame straggling fuchsia, burnished fern,

a cottage embalmed in bramble,

and the so-called "idle bridge," 

relief work during the famine,

leading nowhere, shouldering

failed hopes and bones.

 

Copyright 2026 Cathy Leonard