A cold war

[alex77]

Please let me know what you think of this. Any criticism, good or bad, would be great.


Winning may just be
holding out,
without a shout.

In the face of stigma,
beneath
my soul's enigma.

Hoping
for the failure to lose.

Direct my heart
and in doing so choose.
To hold the contemplation
of the moderation
between seize the day
and time and patience.
Ignore my mind
and it's need for complacence.
In the end,
I'll take heed of the words
of the mount.
For whatever,
I let them count.

[hillwalker]

It rhymes here and there - but makes no sense I'm afraid. Like many aspiring poets who believe poems have to rhyme, by letting the rhyme dictate what you write instead of espressing your thoughts in a normal fashion, you end up writing gibberish.

H

[Emil Miller]

Please let me know what you think of this. Any criticism, good or bad, would be great.


Winning may just be
holding out,
without a shout.

In the face of stigma,
beneath
my soul's enigma.

Hoping
for the failure to lose.

Direct my heart
and in doing so choose.
To hold the contemplation
of the moderation
between seize the day
and time and patience.
Ignore my mind
and it's need for complacence.
In the end,
I'll take heed of the words
of the mount.
For whatever,
I let them count.

I used to write like this until I discovered Cacian's personal poetry
and never looked back.
Now I write like this:

A Reply to Unjust Criticism

Chomping the censorious bit
The poet poses cosy poesies
Grappling with a withering wit
Whimpering plonkers wearing blinkers
Scurrying hurrying cheerless churls
Peerlessly casting pearly pearls
Chastening choppy cheeky chumps
Castigating cherubic champs
Winking wavers walk the walk
Waving rankers talk the talk
The solitary scribbler scribes
Debunking dubious diatribes

[Charles Darnay]

alex, there are some good lines buried in here, but as Hill pointed out, you have to make what you want to say louder than the forced rhymes.

Emil, you haven't quite reached Cacian level yet: I can still understand what your writing. You have to work on that. I recommend flipping through a dictionary at random.

[hillwalker]

Emil, you haven't quite reached Cacian level yet: I can still understand what your writing. You have to work on that. I recommend flipping through a dictionary at random.

That won't work because a high percentage of the words she uses are not found in the dictionary.

H

[Emil Miller]

You may be misjudging her. As I have intimated elsewhere, Cacian's influences are overtly Joycean with undertones of Beckett and Ionesco.

[alex77]

Thanks for all the feedback. I've enjoyed writing as a hobby for a long time, but this is the first poem I've tried to write since I was in high school (24 now). I'm going to rewrite it so that it makes more sense.

[Bar22do]

Winning may just be
holding out,
without a shout.

In the face of stigma,
beneath
my soul's enigma.

Hoping
for the failure to lose.

Direct my heart
and in doing so choose.
To hold the contemplation
of the moderation
between seize the day
and time and patience.
Ignore my mind
and it's need for complacence.
In the end,
I'll take heed of the words
of the mount.
For whatever,
I let them count.



Thanks for all the feedback. I've enjoyed writing as a hobby for a long time, but this is the first poem I've tried to write since I was in high school (24 now). I'm going to rewrite it so that it makes more sense.

That will be a worthy initiative, alex77. Follow Hill and understand Charles' irony! Looking forward to your re-write.

(I also think you should ask for others' poetry not to be written and/or discussed in your thread!)

[Delta40]

Do re-write it Alex and see how you go. Rhyme is limiting you here.

[alex77]

I redid the poem. Kept most of the original (intended) meaning, and changed it. I hope this is better.


This cold war I've found in me.
Between my mind's selfish desires
and what the heart so inspires
may not have an end.
That's what the soul so requires.

But still my heart lacks the patience
to wait for the mind's need for complacence.
Together they begin
meet through the middle
to find a means toward an end
and then each alone
they rebuild again.

Their proxies
selfless endeavor
and the pursuit of pleasure
Direct the soul to choose.
If one should ever win or lose.

But still, the mind is too grounded.
To allow the heart to pursue what is likely unfounded.
Alone they tend to the fields
along separate paths.
But together reap the fruits,
or suffer the droughts.

There can be only one way
keep each at bay.
Seek the contemplation
of the moderation
between seize the day
and time and patience.

[hillwalker]

It's slightly more coherent but still ends up saying very little. For one thing it's much too wordy - more like prose than poetry. And you're still lumbering it with rhyme that makes you churn out an endless series of clichés or expressions that have no meaning in this context.

Cutting verse 1 to the bone for instance would be more effective, but what follows doesn't take the idea of internalised conflict any further:

This cold war (I've found in me.)
Between my mind's selfish desires
and what the heart (so) inspires what does this mean? what is it your heart inspires?
may not have an end.

(That's what the soul so requires.) so vague that it makes no sense

verse 2 is just a muddle -

Together they begin
meet through the middle
to find a means toward an end
and then each alone
they rebuild again.

How do 'they' do this?

The rest recycles the same material - mostly shallow homilies like what you might find inside fortune cookies that show no crumb of original thought or deeper understanding of what you're trying to say. A battle between your mind and body? I'm no nearer discovering what the battle is about because you don't seem able to tell us in clear or concise terms.

Writing about abstract ideas is rarely successful unless the poet has explored every avenue and brought something truly original or enlightening to the table. You have done neither, I'm afraid.

H