Morning Star

[Hawkman]

Falling, I am falling
The morning star no more
Lost to grace, unwary haste
Has ended thus, my war.
Once I was a favourite
The first among my peers
Now only desert winds that scorch
evaporate my tears.

My father shaped my spirit
He made me what I am
He taught me how to question
So was this not his plan?
Why then am I punished,
I am but what I am,
Is free will not an option
If in choosing, I am damned?

Upon the verdant earth I walk
Unseen, unholy fool
Reviled for eternity
With only men to rule.
My footsteps stir the oceans
My breath lays waste the trees
My gaze, the cause of famine,
Withers crops and boils seas

But once or twice an eon,
When visions stir my breast,
I catch a glimpse of Eden
And remember heaven’s best.
My rightful place amid the stars
The light I brought to cheer;
And then the desert winds that scorch
Evaporate my tears.

[PrinceMyshkin]

This has the feel of a lovely, confiding soliloquy that we've been privileged to eavesdrop on. Thank you.

[AuntShecky]

This brings a Twenty-first Century sensibility to "Lucifer by Starlight" by George Meredith, with which it compares favorably. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=173967

Well done.

[_Shannon_]

I dunno--the meter here is kind of distracting to me, as it feels impossible to not read it sing songy...and so I walk away feeling like I just listened to a banjo tune. It's confusing for me to know what emotion I'm supposed to feel. I keep going back to just read the words, but I keep ending up singing. (Admittedly this is almost definitely a flaw of the reader, than the poem...)

[lallison]

Sympathy for the devil? I have mixed feelings on this one. As a whole, I like its message, and, as always, you have some fantastic lines!
ex:

My footsteps stir the oceans
My breath lays waste the trees
My gaze, the cause of famine,
Withers crops and boils seas
this is fabulous and begins to reveal the speaker's true self (or selves?)


Falling, I am falling
The morning star no more
Lost to grace, unwary haste
Has ended thus, my war.
The opening lines are gripping, although a bit archaic perhaps (See William Blake), but no law against that in my book. You set a powerful scene.

On the negative, I thought it was a bit sing-songy too, or worse, a bit whiny in places. ex:


My father shaped my spirit
He made me what I am
He taught me how to question
So was this not his plan?
Why then am I punished,
I am but what I am,
Is free will not an option
If in choosing, I am damned?
I didn't like this stanza. It oozes with self-pity, although at the same time it does bring up a very interesting religious argument. I think your conceptions are great, but could be conveyed more effectively, not necessary quickly explained in a monologue. "Am" and "plan" seem a bit like a forced rhyme. Not much imagery in this stanza either.

Not my favorite of yours, but still an interesting read, and with fantastic potential.

[Bar22do]

I love the "unholy fool" and more, though do agree with lall that you did better in your poetic carrier, even in the very recent past as a revolutionary!
It's as if you write here of your very temporary little fall as it occurs... and I'm sure only to shine again on the firmaments above literature's best landscapes. Be untroubled, and saddle your horse again, with a renewed energy!
Your devoted - Bar

[Hawkman]

My Prince,

It is indeed a soliloquy and I’m glad you think it lovely, though the words of Lucifer may be deceptive so I am mildly concerned that you deem it a privilege to eavesdrop on them. In medieval times, such a statement might have earned you a place at the stake…

Auntie,

Thanks for your kind words and for the link. I hadn’t read this before and that you think my effort compares favourably is very flattering. Meredith’s is certainly more florid than mine being more densely packed with imagery, but I reckon mine is an easier read :D

Shannon

I am sorry that you are so encumbered by your cultural heritage… :D Banjos? Whatever next, lol. I never pictured you as a good ol’ gal, slaving over your still, making moonshine! Still, if you feel the need to sing, then go ahead, but I can see how it would affect your reading of the piece. What emotion are you supposed to feel? Well, that would depend entirely on your relationship with Lucifer, I guess.

Hi lall

That you find it a bit of a curate’s egg, (good in parts) is I think understandable. Your complaint that the second stanza is dry of imagery is valid and as you note, comprised of whining self pity. But the self-pity is deliberate. Lucifer, defeated, falls from heaven, falls from a position of pre-eminence. Of course he’s feeling sorry for himself. His position is entirely one-sided, and he fails to understand the implications of his own argument. Yes, he has free will, yes he has a choice, but choices have consequences and his fate is the consequence of the choice he made.

That you also find it a bit sing-songy maybe for the same reason that Shannon does. You may both have a degree of familiarity with traditional musical styles of the Southern US (regardless of whether you like them or not :D )

My sweet Bar,

I am mortified that I disappoint you, that you feel that this is not of my best, (although you are kind enough to find tiny fragments to praise). But rest assured, devoted fan, I do not write of my own fall, but if I have stumbled in so doing, I will take your advice and remount my pale horse and redouble my efforts.

Thank you all for reading and commenting. May you all bathe in eternal starlight and be blessed by your hearts’ desires. The price is trifling…

Live and be well, H