Second Revision:
Nights after the rain, these
are my nights, my moments.
The deluge leaves an otherwise
languid river gushing, furiously
pushing its way through a once
silent valley, towards the sea.
A brief journey into the black
woods, fighting dense gatherings
of scraggy trees, tangly clusters
of unnamed bush and I'm there.
Along the valley's grassy edge I sit
and revisit the various injustices of
the day, safe this time in the white
noise of the water's constant surge.
Tonight I contemplate a stranger's beauty,
the way she kissed her child, how it echoed
through me as though I were an empty shell.
How she'll never know this sketch of a man
and how that's just as well.
I find myself turning, eyes tracing the water's
course, it's frothing charge ending off to the
east. Across the bay the lights of some distant
town shimmer like stars on the horizon. Monuments
of another world.
Revised:
Nights after the rain, these
are my nights, my moments.
The deluge leaves an otherwise
languid river gushing, furiously
pushing its way through a once
silent valley, towards the sea.
A brief journey into the black
woods, weaving around dense
and spindly trees, wading through
ferns, tangly clusters of unnamed
bush and I'm there.
Sitting along the grassy edge of
the valley's embankment, hiding in
the white noise of the water's constant
surge, I sit and revisit the various injustices
of the day.
Tonight I contemplate her beauty, the
way the pale angel kissed her child with
crimson lips, how it echoed through me
as though I were an empty shell. How she'll
never know this sketch of a man and how that's
just as well.
I find myself turning slowly to the east,
eyes tracing the water's course. Across
the bay the lights of some distant community
shimmer like stars on the horizon. Monuments
of another world.
Original:
Nights after the rain, these
are my nights, my moments.
The deluge leaves an otherwise
languid river gushing,
Starlight falls through slices
in the clouds
on a knoll of a hill at
the edge of my land
on the edge of the woods,
these are my nights,
my moments, my trips
to the edge of the woods,
to the knoll of a hill at the
edge of my land.
My space, a knoll of
a hill at the edge of my
land on the edge of the
woods.
Planted with
It's here I've planted
my
A knoll of a hill is where
it's at
See a satellite slide on by
when clouds are gone and starlight
hits the ground, when leaning back
and looking up
A World Away (revised)
Too many Knoll's too many hill's and too many wood's.....
A very relaxed poem...but there was nothing there for me....I may have found something in it after a bit of the old wacky backy
...but done nuffin for me.......However.....there is something there to work on.......
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beautifulloser
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Hey SS
It's too late or early, I'm drinking moderately mixed vodkas and smoking cigarettes, and browsing this 'ere forum. It suits the mood right now. . .
Notes (in the plural) suggests time's gone by, that there are many knolls, perhaps? - the process of reflection and expression through whatever means (and perhaps uploading it somewhere). I detect a little cynicism in the latter half though, not sure if that is intentional, it's quiet and understated though. I like the internal referencing thing, sort of gives it a disorientated feeling which suits the narrartive as I interpret it.
Good write, the imagery worked for me and found this easy to relate to, even if I've got the wrong end of this, appreciate the above is not much but it's text - be interested to see what others have to say about it . . .
It's too late or early, I'm drinking moderately mixed vodkas and smoking cigarettes, and browsing this 'ere forum. It suits the mood right now. . .
Notes (in the plural) suggests time's gone by, that there are many knolls, perhaps? - the process of reflection and expression through whatever means (and perhaps uploading it somewhere). I detect a little cynicism in the latter half though, not sure if that is intentional, it's quiet and understated though. I like the internal referencing thing, sort of gives it a disorientated feeling which suits the narrartive as I interpret it.
Good write, the imagery worked for me and found this easy to relate to, even if I've got the wrong end of this, appreciate the above is not much but it's text - be interested to see what others have to say about it . . .
I'm sick of it, sick of it all. I know I'm right and I don't give a shit!
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juliadebeauvoir
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I liked the beginning very much. Peaceful, reflective and descriptive without being pretentious. But as the poem went on it seemed repetitious. And not the kind that adds but rather makes an otherwise good poem slightly dull. I think you were emphasising that this was your time alone, your space to think deeply. But I think that is adequately expressed in the first lines and sets the whole tone of aloneness--almost a coveted lonliness. I tightened it up below. See what you think--its your poem and I'm certaintly not trying to infringe on your creative process. Just a suggestion:
Nights after the rain, these
are my nights, my moments.
The deluge leaves an otherwise
languid river gushing,
Starlight falls through slices
in the clouds
on a knoll of a hill at
the edge of my land
on the edge of the woods,
See a satellite slide on by
when clouds are gone and starlight
hits the ground, when leaning back
and looking up
Nights after the rain, these
are my nights, my moments.
The deluge leaves an otherwise
languid river gushing,
Starlight falls through slices
in the clouds
on a knoll of a hill at
the edge of my land
on the edge of the woods,
See a satellite slide on by
when clouds are gone and starlight
hits the ground, when leaning back
and looking up
"Freedom is what you do with what's been done to you."
that's true, poem is relaxing, and similar to the classic ones, like Yeates. but Yeates is dead for long time now, and we are living in XXI century. when i was reading Your poem i was thinking it coud be written in the medieval ages, and you coundn't see a difference. if You know what i mean.
Last edited by makowski on Sat Nov 03, 2007 6:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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oranggunung
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SS
have you come across "If I told him", by Gertrude Stein?
http://www.english.upenn.edu/~jenglish/ ... casso.html
Was that the direction you were heading?
og
have you come across "If I told him", by Gertrude Stein?
http://www.english.upenn.edu/~jenglish/ ... casso.html
Was that the direction you were heading?
og
Travis,
If it wasn't for the form of this, I wouldn't speak too favourably of it.
For me it's just more nature description hiding under the mask of delicacy, especially since there's not much metaphor.
But that's not what this is about, is it? I can see you doing one of two things here. You are either being your enjoyably puckish self and have actually just given us some notes, or you have deliberately shaped the poem into that form. And it all boils down to intention, doesn't it?
However I can't quite decide whether it works or not. The repetition has an incredible lulling effect, yet at times I just think this is a 'clever' poem that is a bit too pleased with its own cleverness. I personally think this can be turned into something brilliant by changing the background of the piece. Don't just make a comment on 'the process of poetry' with it, but push beyond that rather easy terrain, ditch the title for something else, and produce a genuinely brilliant piece of cut up poetry. I said earlier this poem was an intention piece. And I think, by doing some of the above, you could alter the intention from whimsical and clever (although admittedly good) to something even better. What though, bugger knows.
SOrry for all of that abstract shite
Dave
If it wasn't for the form of this, I wouldn't speak too favourably of it.
For me it's just more nature description hiding under the mask of delicacy, especially since there's not much metaphor.
But that's not what this is about, is it? I can see you doing one of two things here. You are either being your enjoyably puckish self and have actually just given us some notes, or you have deliberately shaped the poem into that form. And it all boils down to intention, doesn't it?
However I can't quite decide whether it works or not. The repetition has an incredible lulling effect, yet at times I just think this is a 'clever' poem that is a bit too pleased with its own cleverness. I personally think this can be turned into something brilliant by changing the background of the piece. Don't just make a comment on 'the process of poetry' with it, but push beyond that rather easy terrain, ditch the title for something else, and produce a genuinely brilliant piece of cut up poetry. I said earlier this poem was an intention piece. And I think, by doing some of the above, you could alter the intention from whimsical and clever (although admittedly good) to something even better. What though, bugger knows.
SOrry for all of that abstract shite
Dave
Hey, I appreciate all the comments.
I first posted this as a show of solidarity towards David, demonstrating that I've been having a hard go of it lately as well. These were my actual notes from the previous night (you called it, Dave) and I wanted them to be a window into my current frustration. But I have to say, after reading the comments, especially those from Dave and Kim, I'm seeing this in a new light. Don't get me wrong now, I very much appreciate every single comment from every single person, but I have to single out the above two as their comments were the most insightful. Especially you, Dave. See, I've had a few of these ideas, lines, what have you, kicking around in my head for some time, and instead of letting them go as seemed my course, I will, like you suggested, make them into something better.
og,
Until now I'd never read that poem. Thanks. And I think I already answered your question.
Thanks all.
I first posted this as a show of solidarity towards David, demonstrating that I've been having a hard go of it lately as well. These were my actual notes from the previous night (you called it, Dave) and I wanted them to be a window into my current frustration. But I have to say, after reading the comments, especially those from Dave and Kim, I'm seeing this in a new light. Don't get me wrong now, I very much appreciate every single comment from every single person, but I have to single out the above two as their comments were the most insightful. Especially you, Dave. See, I've had a few of these ideas, lines, what have you, kicking around in my head for some time, and instead of letting them go as seemed my course, I will, like you suggested, make them into something better.
og,
Until now I'd never read that poem. Thanks. And I think I already answered your question.
Thanks all.
Appreciated!Select Samaritan wrote:I first posted this as a show of solidarity towards David, demonstrating that I've been having a hard go of it lately as well.
And I do like what you've got here already. Don't spoil it now. I can hear this, as is, sung by Van Morrison in his best contemplative mode. To me, that's a good thing, but you probably hate Van Morrison. (I can give you reasons for not hating him.)
Cheers
David
He doesn't wear a KFC bucket on his head, but I like him ok.David wrote: you probably hate Van Morrison.
Proficiency with a guitar does little to betray the extent of my musical inclinations. Which is where I imagine that assumption came from. Am I wrong?
All in good fun.
Nah, it was just an ageist remark. I am of the age that likes Van the Man (although only within reason). You are probably some way short of that. Mind you, if I understood one of our previous exchanges correctly, you have an impressive awareness of Bowie's back catalogue!Select Samaritan wrote:He doesn't wear a KFC bucket on his head, but I like him ok.David wrote: you probably hate Van Morrison.
Proficiency with a guitar does little to betray the extent of my musical inclinations. Which is where I imagine that assumption came from. Am I wrong?
All in good fun.
Ah, an impromptu decoration of my profile! Such fun.
I don't hide my truths, but I don't wave them around either. Let the multitudes judge what they have, that's my way. And so I say fair enough to your postulation. I just hope music wasn't your only means of arrival. Speaking of which, is music, art, any art for that matter, limited to a specific age group? I don't think so. It may be more or less accessible, generally speaking, depending on one's age, but it's certainly not limited to any particular age.
But hey, if I'm young and to you, inherently impressive in my knowledge of what came before me, then why grandstand my truth? Yours is already positive.
I don't hide my truths, but I don't wave them around either. Let the multitudes judge what they have, that's my way. And so I say fair enough to your postulation. I just hope music wasn't your only means of arrival. Speaking of which, is music, art, any art for that matter, limited to a specific age group? I don't think so. It may be more or less accessible, generally speaking, depending on one's age, but it's certainly not limited to any particular age.
But hey, if I'm young and to you, inherently impressive in my knowledge of what came before me, then why grandstand my truth? Yours is already positive.
David, if you want mine, just ask.
I apologize if I came off snotty, defensive and challenging. I would never direct the likes of that towards you. I was simply being playful.
We get along famously. I'd hate to see that come to an end over a silly misunderstanding.
I also apologize if your perception of common courtesy dictated that I somehow was obligated to divulge statistical information about myself after you effectively broached that very topic. But in my defense, when have I ever?
I apologize if I came off snotty, defensive and challenging. I would never direct the likes of that towards you. I was simply being playful.
We get along famously. I'd hate to see that come to an end over a silly misunderstanding.
I also apologize if your perception of common courtesy dictated that I somehow was obligated to divulge statistical information about myself after you effectively broached that very topic. But in my defense, when have I ever?
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beautifulloser
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Damn straight. Astral Weeks is pretty good . . . . . flapping me arms about, that's me.but it's certainly not limited to any particular age
I'm sick of it, sick of it all. I know I'm right and I don't give a shit!
Not at all, old chap. Snotty, defensive and challenging - not in the least! I wasn't enquiring after your age, star sign or vital statistics, and I didn't mean to give that impression. I honestly wasn't offended, and I'm not now.Select Samaritan wrote:David, if you want mine, just ask.
I apologize if I came off snotty, defensive and challenging. I would never direct the likes of that towards you. I was simply being playful.
We get along famously. I'd hate to see that come to an end over a silly misunderstanding.
I also apologize if your perception of common courtesy dictated that I somehow was obligated to divulge statistical information about myself after you effectively broached that very topic. But in my defense, when have I ever?
We shall talk no more of this matter, sir. We do get on famously, and I'm happy that we do, and long may it continue.
And, Beau, yes - Astral Weeks, that is my favourite.
Cheers
David
Select Samaritan.
How often can one or two lines make a poem?
I could go through the whole poem and pick out a number of cliches that perhaps don't work though. I could also say that the last two verses need to be reduced too. But I won't.
I will say that it's a clever and interesting edit/ progression.
Minst.
How often can one or two lines make a poem?
A real pivot to the poem. You've done well with those off-cuts. Sure, 'spindly trees' I've read before yet don't mind at all. There's a kind of dream like feel to this verse.A brief journey into the black
woods, weaving around dense
and spindly trees, wading through
ferns, tangly clusters of unnamed
bush and I'm there.
I could go through the whole poem and pick out a number of cliches that perhaps don't work though. I could also say that the last two verses need to be reduced too. But I won't.
I will say that it's a clever and interesting edit/ progression.
Minst.
I missed this revision.
At first, I was going to say that it didn't have that wonderful (if accidental) repetitiveness of the original, but that is what I wanted and obviously not what you wanted.
But the revision is really good. Excellent, even.
At first I rolled my eyes a bit with the poet reclining and reflecting, the thoughts of the 'angel' with lips and what-have-you, but this has too much going for it to be pulled down by moments of dubious originality.
Your best moments were when you took this out of it's rather delicate approach -
bush and I'm there.
How she'll
never know this sketch of a man and how that's
just as well.
These two moments are really quite perfect.
However S4 just doesn't cut it for me. It's just another memory of a beautiful girl, and a another set of lips, and another passage I can't really enjoy. I'd suggest combining the stanza before with the ending of 4:
Sitting along the grassy edge of
the valley's embankment, hiding in
the white noise of the water's constant
surge, I sit and revisit the various injustices
of the day,
how they'll
never know this sketch of a man and how that's
just as well.
I find myself turning to the east was a bit momentous, life-changing and histrionic . The 'I find', the 'slowly' and the 'east' add up to something a bit too portentous and, as Minst said, cliched - (keep the East bit, but make it more subtle).
Can stars be monuments? The image is a really wonderful thing to end on, but it does mix metaphors a bit. Would 'constellations' suffice?
Regardless of all of the above (perhaps except the beauty bit), I nominate this for a feature.
Dave
At first, I was going to say that it didn't have that wonderful (if accidental) repetitiveness of the original, but that is what I wanted and obviously not what you wanted.
But the revision is really good. Excellent, even.
At first I rolled my eyes a bit with the poet reclining and reflecting, the thoughts of the 'angel' with lips and what-have-you, but this has too much going for it to be pulled down by moments of dubious originality.
Your best moments were when you took this out of it's rather delicate approach -
bush and I'm there.
How she'll
never know this sketch of a man and how that's
just as well.
These two moments are really quite perfect.
However S4 just doesn't cut it for me. It's just another memory of a beautiful girl, and a another set of lips, and another passage I can't really enjoy. I'd suggest combining the stanza before with the ending of 4:
Sitting along the grassy edge of
the valley's embankment, hiding in
the white noise of the water's constant
surge, I sit and revisit the various injustices
of the day,
how they'll
never know this sketch of a man and how that's
just as well.
I find myself turning to the east was a bit momentous, life-changing and histrionic . The 'I find', the 'slowly' and the 'east' add up to something a bit too portentous and, as Minst said, cliched - (keep the East bit, but make it more subtle).
Can stars be monuments? The image is a really wonderful thing to end on, but it does mix metaphors a bit. Would 'constellations' suffice?
Regardless of all of the above (perhaps except the beauty bit), I nominate this for a feature.
Dave
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emuse
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Hi SS,
I read the revision and think you've done a good job of shaping the poem. I'd say the story goes to the subject of the poem, the person the narrator speaks of. I especially like the narrator editing the injustices of the day. Ah I just realized you said revisit and not revise. Hm, how about the narrator revising the injustices of the day. I might pare this done a bit further but then it might be might voice, not yours and I don't want to tinker too much. My attention went to the last few stanzas. Some ideas for this:
Crouched along the grassy edge
of embankment, I revisit the injustices
of the day that hides in the white noise
of the water's constant surge.
Just playing with your stanzas here, but considering that the sentence structure needs an action to take place rather than the passive language of the original as it is set up now.
Tonight I contemplate her beauty, the
way the pale angel kissed her child with
crimson lips, how it echoed through me
as though I were an empty shell. How she'll
never know this sketch of a man and how that's
just as well.
I think you might get rid of crimson. I'd look for another unusual descriptive word, berried, (but better than that). I love the "how she'll never know this sketch.... I'm not keen on the shell/well. A rhyme emerges that draws too much attention to it in my opinion. A minor thing.
I find myself turning [slowly] to the east,
eyes tracing the water's course. Across
the bay the lights of some distant (town) [community]
shimmer like stars on the horizon. Monuments
of another world.
I think community is too clunkly and doesn't quite fit with the voice of this poem. It does have a timeless quality and to use a sterile word like community doesn't quite go for me.
The poem works in a reflective way. The opening stanzas really draw the reader into the poet's world.
Please feel free to take or toss whateva!
e
I read the revision and think you've done a good job of shaping the poem. I'd say the story goes to the subject of the poem, the person the narrator speaks of. I especially like the narrator editing the injustices of the day. Ah I just realized you said revisit and not revise. Hm, how about the narrator revising the injustices of the day. I might pare this done a bit further but then it might be might voice, not yours and I don't want to tinker too much. My attention went to the last few stanzas. Some ideas for this:
Crouched along the grassy edge
of embankment, I revisit the injustices
of the day that hides in the white noise
of the water's constant surge.
Just playing with your stanzas here, but considering that the sentence structure needs an action to take place rather than the passive language of the original as it is set up now.
Tonight I contemplate her beauty, the
way the pale angel kissed her child with
crimson lips, how it echoed through me
as though I were an empty shell. How she'll
never know this sketch of a man and how that's
just as well.
I think you might get rid of crimson. I'd look for another unusual descriptive word, berried, (but better than that). I love the "how she'll never know this sketch.... I'm not keen on the shell/well. A rhyme emerges that draws too much attention to it in my opinion. A minor thing.
I find myself turning [slowly] to the east,
eyes tracing the water's course. Across
the bay the lights of some distant (town) [community]
shimmer like stars on the horizon. Monuments
of another world.
I think community is too clunkly and doesn't quite fit with the voice of this poem. It does have a timeless quality and to use a sterile word like community doesn't quite go for me.
The poem works in a reflective way. The opening stanzas really draw the reader into the poet's world.
Please feel free to take or toss whateva!
e
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oranggunung
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SS
What a wonderful transformation. I like the reflective and pastoral aspects of the revisions.
The use of “black woods” put me in mind of “back woods” and seemed to echo the title.
Must agree with e that the chime of 'shell' and 'well' in S5 do distract the reading a little. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the prose, but the rhyme looks crafted. That drew me out of the smooth flow of the story to look at the structure. Perhaps a mere nit.
much enjoyed
og
What a wonderful transformation. I like the reflective and pastoral aspects of the revisions.
The use of “black woods” put me in mind of “back woods” and seemed to echo the title.
Must agree with e that the chime of 'shell' and 'well' in S5 do distract the reading a little. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the prose, but the rhyme looks crafted. That drew me out of the smooth flow of the story to look at the structure. Perhaps a mere nit.
much enjoyed
og
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dillingworth
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the new version is a marked improvement, and the whole poem gets stronger as it goes on. however, look at these two stanzas. i've highlighted all of the adjective-noun combinations:
The deluge leaves an otherwise
languid river gushing, furiously
pushing its way through a once
silent valley, towards the sea.
A brief journey into the black
woods, fighting dense gatherings
of scraggy trees, tangly clusters
of unnamed bush and I'm there.
That for me spoils the effect: virtually every noun is preceded by a word that qualifies it. Either come up with some other way of including these details without repeating the same adj-noun structure, or just get rid of some of them would be my suggestion. Unless of course the way every noun is tangled up by an accompanying adjective, slowing the poem's progress and encumbering the reader, is intended to mirror the speaker's difficult progress through the woods?! Nice as that would be it perhaps isn't that obvious...
The deluge leaves an otherwise
languid river gushing, furiously
pushing its way through a once
silent valley, towards the sea.
A brief journey into the black
woods, fighting dense gatherings
of scraggy trees, tangly clusters
of unnamed bush and I'm there.
That for me spoils the effect: virtually every noun is preceded by a word that qualifies it. Either come up with some other way of including these details without repeating the same adj-noun structure, or just get rid of some of them would be my suggestion. Unless of course the way every noun is tangled up by an accompanying adjective, slowing the poem's progress and encumbering the reader, is intended to mirror the speaker's difficult progress through the woods?! Nice as that would be it perhaps isn't that obvious...
SS
I remember reading this when first posted and through a combination of not having enough time and finding it hard going I didnt comment. Reading revision 2 is proof that returning and revising work is a worthwhile endeavour as IMO you now have a flowing piece that narrates a story and puts over a theme.
If anything I would say you could cut back a little more. For example languid river gushing, furiously/pushing is a lot of "ings" and maybe just furiously pushing or gushing furiously (omit its way) would say the same thing. and with only the two "ings" it conveys more of the feeling of a deluge as the third word slows down the read.
Next stanza the "punch" phrase is IMO A brief journey into the black woods, .....and I'm there and while it needs something in between would you consider omitting either the scraggy trees or tangly clusters?
S5 for me is the essence of the poem, some have commented on the awkwardness of the shell/well rhyme - well maybe but for me it anchors the piece on this stanza.
Final stanza I'm not sure you need like stars on the horizon.
Enjoyed the read and almost as much I found reading through the revisions a helpful guide to how a final piece is formed.
Elphin
I remember reading this when first posted and through a combination of not having enough time and finding it hard going I didnt comment. Reading revision 2 is proof that returning and revising work is a worthwhile endeavour as IMO you now have a flowing piece that narrates a story and puts over a theme.
If anything I would say you could cut back a little more. For example languid river gushing, furiously/pushing is a lot of "ings" and maybe just furiously pushing or gushing furiously (omit its way) would say the same thing. and with only the two "ings" it conveys more of the feeling of a deluge as the third word slows down the read.
Next stanza the "punch" phrase is IMO A brief journey into the black woods, .....and I'm there and while it needs something in between would you consider omitting either the scraggy trees or tangly clusters?
S5 for me is the essence of the poem, some have commented on the awkwardness of the shell/well rhyme - well maybe but for me it anchors the piece on this stanza.
Final stanza I'm not sure you need like stars on the horizon.
Enjoyed the read and almost as much I found reading through the revisions a helpful guide to how a final piece is formed.
Elphin