Prose Poem I

[Alexander III]

Prometheus' scream lingers in the mountains. The winter leaf which gently presses it's kiss upon the dirt - is the mosaic of his blood, softly dripping and dribbling, down the stones of silver and gray. The timeless twilight of the dayless day - a metallic sun of pure white, casting its stare upon this unknown peak. Not a single tear is offered to ancient Prometheus. How can a tear be offered, when we know not of his torment?

I see in the night walks small groups of hidden people. Some wandering in stillness others wandering in movement. A few words voyage into the night, mostly just little and soundless embers. The wind ever-present. The same wind which cracks his cheeks, has come down to this mortal reign to tousle our hair.

Close your eyes. See him convulse, see his fingers carving into the rocks which bind him, see his body form a stiff arch of agony. Open your eyes. Look at the crescent moon - stop and reflect and admire, the stillness of beauty. As you see it, he is in his arch of agony. Close your eyes. Open your eyes. Close your eyes. Open your eyes. He is there - his visage tight and his eyes narrow and staring at a fixed point. His face, marble like an augustian statue. The peak unchanging and isolated for millennia. Yet, not a single tear shall mingle with the dried blood on his visage. He shall die a million deaths. Yet, remember, close your eyes - He is one whom fate cannot kill.

[YesNo]

Eternal punishment. It doesn't have to be fiery. I hear Prometheus escaped eventually.

[everyadventure]

I feel as though we're playing a game of Simon Says: Close your eyes! Open them! Close them! Gotcha!

Kidding aside, there are some words I liked: "embers" is one, but I was thrown off by voyaging words being soundless. Wandering in movement struck me as a bit repetitive. I had a hard time reconciling all the contrasting imagery: winter leaf, metallic sun, crescent moon. But perhaps that was your point, to contrast this still night with that glaring day?

In any case, I liked "arch of agony."

[Alexander III]

Thanks you both for your thoughts

[Jack of Hearts]

This reader has a bit of an issue with this- were it simply prose he would be gnawing on it quite hardily. But because it's happened to be labeled 'prose poetry' is there a difference in the way it's to be approached? Probably. This is not necessarily a critique of this piece, but perhaps the form itself.

Whatever considerations, there are some interesting things going on here. It is certainly not devoid of value.




J

[Alexander III]

This reader has a bit of an issue with this- were it simply prose he would be gnawing on it quite hardily. But because it's happened to be labeled 'prose poetry' is there a difference in the way it's to be approached? Probably. This is not necessarily a critique of this piece, but perhaps the form itself.

Whatever considerations, there are some interesting things going on here. It is certainly not devoid of value.




J



You are quite right, I should not have labelled it, by labeling it I gave it a name which it did not have and thus probably detracted from the poem, or rather altered the reading of it.

I suppose I dont know how it should be read. Like prose probably. Or rather like one would read the prose of Flaubert or Proust. Actually I have no idea.

[Jack of Hearts]

Ah, careful care should have been better put in this reader's original comment. In absolutely no way should you be discouraged from writing what you feel you must write; you go wherever you need to go and readers will read your notes from the frontier.




J

[blank|verse]

How can a tear be offered, when we know not of his torment?
I thought Camus's argument was that we knew this only too well, and in fact, quite enjoyed it? It's still a thoughtful piece, AIII, and it's good to read someone try something different.

Like ea, I thought the 'arch of agony' was strong; and liked the idea behind the 'winter leaf / mosaic' image in the first line, but felt it wasn't quite executed satisfactorily. For a start, with his blood 'dripping' I would expect there to be many leaves, not a single one, especially as part of a mosaic. And I can sense perhaps you were trying to do something with colours, but I thought that the stones were 'of silver and grey' and the blood 'softly dripping and dribbling' made for a slow, over-written line. Try and cut out the modification and write more economically, I would suggest.

I didn't like 'visage'; and wasn't keen on the 'open your eyes, close your eyes' part, but I think you're right to try to write rhythmically in a prose poem. (And 'it's' should be 'its' in the first line; and I don't think the dash is needed after 'dirt'.) Still, interesting stuff.

[Armel P]

You are quite right, I should not have labelled it, by labeling it I gave it a name which it did not have and thus probably detracted from the poem, or rather altered the reading of it.

I suppose I dont know how it should be read. Like prose probably. Or rather like one would read the prose of Flaubert or Proust. Actually I have no idea.

I think you were very right to label it a prose poem. Somebody may be unfamiliar with the form as is often the case but that should not create any timidity in your intention. I read and write prose poems often and I didn't feel at all jarred or confused by reading it.

Don't forget Baudelaire and Rimbaud.