This is literally a first draft - put into verse from rough notes. All criticisms welcome - words, lines, rhythm, the lot. Over and above that, does the poem 'come across' to you?

The stories of Aleksander and Natasha are told in detail in a book entitled Post-Soviet Chaos by Joma Nazpary. The plight of the poorest in Almaty, Kazakhstan is almost unbearable to read about.

James.

Hi James, it took a few reads before I got into the sense and feeling of this poem, but once there I found it effective in a disturbing sort of way. I think you achieve this through the I can/you can sections which are akin to the conjugation of verbs which suggests someone speaking in English who is not a native English-speaker, I don't know if this is deliberate. But it also has the effect of suggesting someone speaking very quickly, nervously, tripping over their words in their efforts to tell the story rapidly, furtively, while no-one is listening who shouldn't be. A further effect is that of a word-of-mouth or journalistic spreading of news and, particularly as we move further into the poem, this has a unifying effect, suggesting that whatever happens in Almaty happens everywhere, perhaps in less extreme forms, but these are things that we can recognise as universal events. That's a lot to have put over in one simple repeated expressive idea!

I like the contrast of the normality and beauty of the things seen from the window - lilac leaves, wintering orchards, late flowers on a balcony - with the brutality of life for these people. Little touches of colour and nature that are ordinary to us but bring real moments of sanity and peace into the lives of these people- we hope.

Trofim, I am sorry for your loss. Reader, this is Trofim. He has lost his brother.

This struck me as sounding like a passage from the books I read when I was very young. 'This is Nip the dog. See Nip run.' I don't mean in a trivial way, but in a very simple way that states the writer's sincere sorrow without sentimentality and that's very effective.

If I were to criticise, I think the following:

‘In Soviet times this did not happen.’ ‘Not even sometimes?’ ‘Not often, not like now. ‘Eto bardak’ she adds. ‘This is a brothel.’

Could be pruned. I feel the section in the middle 'Not even . . . like now' weakens the point being made, even if it did happen to a lesser degree before.

Also, the phrase 'Eto bardak' seems to be given a different translation earlier. Or is it not a translation but an expression of some kind?

small world from my window from your window (do you have roses? patio? apple tree?) we can see into every valley into every city

Yes, the universality, this could be happening to you. Reminds me of that line from 'Do They Know It's Christmas?' - 'Tonight Thank God it's them instead of you'.

A powerful poem, James. A telling first draft, which I'm sure will be even more so when revised.

Jan

Thanks Jan for your thoughtful comment. 'Bardak' is a Russian slang word and it has both meanings: 'chaos' or 'mess', and figuratively 'brothel'. There's a Russian saying which I think predates the Soviet era and has come through it and outlived it: 'Ministers come and go, but the mess (bardak) is always with us.'

I'll reply to you at greater length soon.

James.

I’ve cut that unnecessary bit of dialogue as you suggested, Jan. Actually, according the Nazpary (his book mentioned above) women having to sleep with the boss to get a job, or get promotion, or avoid being sacked, was extremely rare in Soviet times, and managers who were found out would be demoted to the factory floor. So for that reason, and to make a small improvement to the poem, these lines go.

All the lines ‘akin to the conjugation of verbs’, or suggesting a non-native English speaker, or someone telling the story nervously and furtively - these lines clearly present a problem. This is just the kind of feedback that can be really helpful, as it shows that what was in my mind appears to you, the reader, as something different. In this respect the poem doesn’t communicate well enough.

This is roughly what I’m on about in the poem. The message is: I write this poem (literally) by my window; you (the reader) read it there too (imaginatively). Both I, and you the reader, can see the view from my window - but not only that, I and you can ‘see’ all the way to Almaty. We can take a little tour of the city. We meet Trofim and he talks to us; we meet Natasha and her mother and they talk to us.

Writing it out like this makes me realise the whole thing is more than a bit convoluted.

I suppose it’s a tribute to the power of imagination in today’s world. ‘From your window’, i.e. from wherever you are, you can imaginatively see any place in the world, and meet people there. Even be ‘introduced’ to them - ‘Reader, this is Trofim’. Spot the cliché...I slipped ‘small world’ in there hoping it would take on new meaning. But that’s one of the things the poem is trying to say - that the world is ‘smaller’ in our time, in a very significant way.

However, if those repetitive lines don’t convey that adequately to readers, the poem needs to be reworked, at least in places. I’m working on that. Such things can take time, unless the Muse pays a surprise visit.

Perhaps I should add that it’s pretty obvious that it wasn’t the ‘power of imagination’ that supplied the sketch of Almaty city, but our modern media: the Almaty city website, Wikipedia and others. The ‘orchards wintering now’ (I know that apples are produced in the Almaty region) and the ‘late flowers on balconies’ are the only details I imagined all by myself. Kök Töbe mountain, the Zodiac fountain etc are from internet images. Then, of course, the stories of Aleksander and Natasha are from the book. So in a way I’m cheating and pretending it’s the ‘power of the imagination’! Still, I think imagination does play a part.

Thank you for your positive comments on the descriptive sketch -

I like the contrast of the normality and beauty of the things seen from the window - lilac leaves, wintering orchards, late flowers on a balcony - with the brutality of life for these people.

Almaty seems a very attractive city, in a magnificent mountainous setting, which only adds to the outrage I feel when I read about the poverty and the awful experiences and humiliations that so many of its people suffer. Financial and moral corruption, and Mafia-style criminality, are rife. If Nazpary’s book is reliable (and I’m sure it is) then we have to recognise, as older people in Almaty often say, that life was better in Soviet times - at least in the 70s and 80s.

Thanks again for your very helpful comments.

James.

James, I seem to have completely misunderstood your poem, and I've been thinking about why this is.

I think, in part, it is the short sentences, the repeated but modified phrases and the repeated use of the word 'jittering'. These things seem to set us up to react in the way that I did, although that might just be me. I do hope someone else will comment soon so that you can get a better idea how it's coming across.

small world from my window from your window (do you have roses? patio? apple tree?) we can see into every valley into every city

I love these last two stanzas and in them the from my/from your motif works beautifully, better, I think, than the earlier uses although the earlier ones do set this last section up to work as well as it does. I wonder if a slight softening of the earlier uses would help? e.g.

I write this, you read this

It seems to me that the run-on takes the 'jitteriness' out of the telling and the removal of 'I wrote this' clarifies your meaning, I think. It's easier to get that you are referring to the handing on of information, communication.

I do hope this is helpful.

Jan

Hi James,
I found this immensely moving. I liked the jerkiness of it...the note form that you alluded to works well for me.
I imagine the 'voice' to be half whispered, rasped out with ragged breath. The contrast with the everyday is a good foil...as is the sense that all this is there for us to see and understand should we choose.
I found the description of the buildings especially grounding. There was a flash of recognition ( possibly from mind's eye imaginings when reading cold war novels ages ago) yet not of anything I have physically see, and this added to the strength of the poem for me.
Oddly I liked the stanza where you re-introduced Trofim to me, the reader,it put a face on the suffering of those left behind.
The least successful stanza for me was

Natasha, chattel secretary
Her interview took place in bed
if she doesn’t hit a deadline
she is interviewed again

For some reason this did not come across harshly enough and so the tension I had been feeling up to that point dissipated and really I wanted to stoke my anger, not lose it...if this makes any sense at all!

Hi James

I've come late to this, and I know there have been many comments already. I was working on my comment, but before I could post I just read your explanation of your intentions, and so I wanted to say that I don't think this needs too much of a rewrite. I did see the intention of the repetitions in the language as a way to invite the viewer in, to share the view, the experiences of the people in Almaty.

You say - this is Almaty, this is what is happening there, and... it could be you (the reader) in Almaty, it could be be any of us, and - on some level - we are all part of this terrible thing that is happening.

Something as familiar (and indigenous to us) as an apple tree is a good way in to show that universality - the view seems almost familiar.

The way you introduce this notion of sharing with reader/ writer/people in Almaty - "I write this, you wrote this", it does work, but maybe given the feedback, it's worth experimenting with the phrasing. "You can see it / I can see it", is certainly clearer I think - maybe that should be the first introduction to this technique? Or something like "Can't you see it?" before describing the view.

This is a quiet and moving poem, one which seems to fit into a style (collection) you have been developing - poems that voice, explore, show and try to share the experiences of others in different parts of the world, their struggles, injustices, experiences of poverty and war. You give names, places, share their words. There is a combination journalism, mixed with something like a testament to these poem. It's very fitting this style for its subject, and also very humane, and this poem is a fine addition to that group.

The only thing I think you don't need is the line:

small world

, as the final lines 'show' that very well:

from my window from your window (do you have roses? patio? apple tree?) we can see into every valley into every city

cheers, Kirsty

Natasha, chattel secretary Her interview took place in bed if she doesn’t hit a deadline she is interviewed again

At odds with Sally on this, I like this stanza very much. The understatement of 'she is interviewed again' is far more telling than a harsher description would be.

I didn't dislike the 'jerkiness' it's just that, for me, it made me misread the intention of the poem.

"I write this, you wrote this", it does work

I agree with Kirsty except that the line is "I write this, I wrote this" which doesn't work for me, at least.

BTW, I meant short lines, not sentences; a leftover from short story writing.

Jan

Thank you for all your comments. I’ve made some revisions, and as it’s quite a long poem I’ve posted just the revision rather than the old version and the new together.

Those repeated formulae tend to clog up the poem. These lines especially can bamboozle readers:

I can see you can see

I see you see we see

All the poem means to say is that what I literally see from my window, readers can see in imagination - or at least visualise a similar scene. Then it goes on to say that from our windows we can see Almaty - see some features of the city, and see what is happening to some of its people. Of course we can’t see Almaty, but it’s a way of saying that in the world we live in distant places seem much ‘closer’ than ever before - closer in imagination, closer in our consciousness. We feel we can reach out to distant people; they seem more neighbourly. We are (or can be, if we’re so inclined) more aware of our common humanity. But, as you've rightly pointed out, those verb conjugations get in the way.

I’ve changed some of these awkward lines. Instead of

From this window I can see you can see Almaty apple city orchards wintering now snow on Kök Töbe

I’ve made it

From this window I can see Almaty apple city orchards wintering now snow on Kök Töbe (can you see it?)

Instead of

I see you see we see Aleksander

I’ve put

we see Aleksander

Instead of

Past a fluttering falling lilac leaf and the October snow- white viburnum blossom I see you see we see Natasha, chattel secretary

it becomes

Past a fluttering falling lilac leaf, and the October snow-white viburnum (wayfarer’s tree) we see Natasha, chattel secretary

‘Small world’ is gone. The lines about Natasha being ‘interviewed again’ aren’t changed, as I prefer the understatement here. I’ll be interested to know if you think this is any better, or if more needs to be done.

James.

Thanks, Oonah. It needed revision but I feel the poem's very nearly ok now.

James.