It did make me laugh. But it's not juvenile or filthy to me, not at all.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jack of Hearts
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It did make me laugh. But it's not juvenile or filthy to me, not at all.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jack of Hearts
:smilielol5:Quote:
Originally Posted by Lokasenna
:smilielol5: :smilielol5:Quote:
Originally Posted by Jack of Hearts
This is great stuff.
Incidentally, I agree with Jack's assessment that the preamble was really key to this poem. Without context it would have been a bit eye-roll worthy, but reading it in the right mindframe made it brilliant. I know a few people who recite bawdy poetry after they've had a few, they'd love this.
Just remember that it's not free for the taking.Quote:
Originally Posted by JuniperWoolf
I'm glad you enjoyed it!Quote:
Originally Posted by Hawkman
I hope it was worth the wait! You're absolutely right about the setting and nature of it - there should be plenty of beer, plenty of volume, and plenty of laughter. It is a boyish drinking song all the way.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jack
Fantastic! If you and yours decide to sing it after a few, I'd be utterly delighted! I had great fun roaring out the prototype version... And yes, I thought the preamble was necessary to make it clear that I'm not some sort of ridiculous adolescent trying to compensate for something...Quote:
Originally Posted by Juniper
I thought it was delightful! I smiled throughout.
Loka, Loka! you ... boy! it is a delightful banjo song!!!!! I could write the music!!!!
thanks a lot for the fun! and the best of years to you! Bar
Loka, I salute you. You are quite brilliant, and no mistake... :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Lokasenna
/Claes
Loka... have you been reading Wilmot lately.:hand:
They are all good ones. Who knows. We might actually have a long lasting writer in this forum, assuming the manifestations are a lot. Of these I vote for Metaphysic.
I think Lokasenna is long lasting and I think the poem is actually much better than others here realize.
:)
Lol! I've been thinking we needed more poetry about roosters. :DQuote:
Originally Posted by Lokasenna
(P.S. It's just brilliant, Lokasenna)
Thank you everyone for so much positive feedback! I'm rather overwhelmed!
You deserved it, Loka . Now we eagerly await your next piece of writing....:biggrin5:Quote:
Originally Posted by Lokasenna
/Claes
I have a large poetic project on the go at the moment (estimated time till completetion: probably four lifetimes), but this was a little something that had lurking 95% complete in my notebook for a while - I took the trouble the other day to complete it. For those of you who have had the stamina to read through my poetry, you'll realise this is something quite different for me. It was partly written as an exercise to improve my use of rhythm (perhaps successfully..?), but also because the ideas within were attractive to me. As always, constructive criticism is very welcome!
this is the way
The world corrupts, the world corrupts and falls,
and bright hoar ice inscribes the standing stones
about this place of death, this place of loss,
with veins of crackling cold, the script of time
writ large upon the silent graves around.
For we, the unfulfilled, that linger long,
too long, upon this whittling witless world,
yet know the truth that lies beneath our own
low pulse, that day by day counts out our lives.
It is the secret silence and the maw,
the fateful tick, the tock, and nothing more.
Hi Loki, it's always nice to see you venture into this neck of the woods. Nice iambic Pentameter. The opening line bothers me a little, but only because it is unclear whether you are merely being rhetorical with the repetition of, "The world corrupts" or rather, as i would like to interpret it, making two separate statements, in that the world is corrupting it's inhabitants as well as decaying itself. I do wonder why you went for 11 lines. 10 would have been neater :D (or better yet 14 for an unrhymed sonnet, although a sonnet (traditionally a love poem form) to decay and death, might be a little gothic!
Given the metre I think 10 lines would be a nice round number and I might be bold enough to suggest cutting line 1 of S2 and replacing "yet" in S2 L3 with "we" to facilitate it, but it's only a suggestion.
Live and be well - H
... and nothing more.
Awww, Loka, I have missed your poetry as well! That piece about the rooster warmed the cockles of my, errr, heart because I do love bawdy rhymes (ever read any of Burns' or Auden's dirty pieces? They're such fun!)
With your latest piece, I'd definitely say you've improved your metrical art significantly. There are several iambic substitutions, but they all seem to be governed by the sense, rather than just being randomly placed. EG, the spondee of "counts out" pairs well with the pyrrhics of "It is" and "(sil)ence and" in the next line; it's as if the "counting" is the hand of fate hammering down on us, while the swiftness in the next line because of the pyrrhics imitate the speed with which that time flies. So that's a perfect illustration of how to use meter to manipulate the aesthetic and semantic sense of the lines. I'm also a sucker for alliteration, and you have plenty of it it; though you do have to watch out that it doesn't become so noticeable that it's distracting: "whittling witless world" comes awfully close to being too OTT, with its adj., adj., noun, W, W, W pairing.
I do agree with Hawk that this piece really wants to have two 5-line stanzas rather than a 5 and a 6 line piece. One thing to think about in the future is how to use such symmetry to parallel lines in one stanza with the next, using it to develop motifs and ideas across a piece. A perfect example of that in a short poem is Browning's Meeting at Night, which parallels almost every line/idea/image/motif in the first stanza with something in the second.
On the theme, it really reminded me of the image of Destiny walking through his realm holding his book while the world crumbled in Neil Gaiman's Sandman. I think it was the bits about "the script of time" (He was always studying these huge scrolls). But it is a nice, dark, gothic piece with a very nice usage of rhythm and sound.
I may take your lead and begin posting all of my poems in a single thread as well... what do you think?
Thank you for such detailed feedback! I felt rather pleased with myself over the first line (a sure sign that I've done something wrong!) - I wanted to convey the sense of repetition right from the start, an implied version of the tick-tock that appears in the final line. I suppose how one interprets that repetition, from any kind of narrative perspective, is entirely subjective. As for the number of lines, I honestly didn't think it that important - my thought process was to simply say what I wanted to say, and leave it at that. The break between the two verses simply seemed natural. Other than deciding to compose in blank verse (apart from the last couplet), I had given little thought to the construction of the poem.Quote:
Originally Posted by Hawkman
I'll give it a try and see how it looks, but I'd be sad to lose the repetition of 'long/ too long'!Quote:
Given the metre I think 10 lines would be a nice round number and I might be bold enough to suggest cutting line 1 of S2 and replacing "yet" in S2 L3 with "we" to facilitate it, but it's only a suggestion.
Yes indeed! Nothing like a bit of filthy poetry to cheer you up and remind you that great poets are human too!Quote:
Originally Posted by MorpheusSandman
Thank you! Yes, I'm a sucker for alliteration as well, and as I wrote that line I wondered whether I'd overstepped the mark, but decided to run with it. I'm very pleased that you thought the rhythm worked out - as I'm sure some of my previous efforts have demonstrated, it's not always been my strong point!Quote:
Originally Posted by MorpheusSandman
It's interesting that you and Hawk both think this - as I say above, I didn't really think about it. I hadn't realised it unbalanced the poem in this way.Quote:
Originally Posted by MorpheusSandman
I think it is a great idea, and I wish more people would do it - particularly the more prolific poets. I'll often read a poem on here and like it, then several weeks/months later I'll remember it for some reason, but have to spend a long time searching if I want to re-read it. This system makes things considerably easier!Quote:
I may take your lead and begin posting all of my poems in a single thread as well... what do you think?
Indeed!Quote:
Originally Posted by cafolini
Well Loka, this one is best left to the professionals. As for the rest of us, we'll just say we're still reading your stuff after all this time.
J
This has been lurking on my computer for a while, and I've been uncertain about posting it up. It is very unlike the poetry I usually write, and I'm not entirely sure it is successful. Still, I've had productive feedback on it from some people - though I remain uncertain about it.
Vignettes of Childhood and Brutality
The mother murders her children with a knife.
She slits the cellophane wrapper on the pizza,
their third this week.
The highlights, the thick mascara,
lips with their soft, red promise,
the tantalizing, enticing garment
that shows the glory of her cleavage:
she walks with a confident sway,
a hint of sex upon the air.
She is twelve years old.
The cocksure youth senses potential
amidst the sweat, the noise, the drowning lights
of the dark club.
He romances the only way he knows how,
grinding his organ against her,
a frantic animal fearing the onset of a sentiment.
The thrill of the hunt
is only in the f***.
The people move like a temperate day,
the rolls of fat
like waves upon the sea.
The tins of Stella litter the yard,
Daddy's garden gnomes,
that pour their urine on dry grass
and smile at Daddy's red nose.
Jake and Marie are at play,
and Jake has a new favourite word:
c**t, c**t, c**t.
Marie is in tears because
he called her a 'virgin' -
she does not know what it means.
Incest would be kinder.
The glossy magazines,
with their colour and venom,
pass the time, the cigarettes,
till her man returns to her
from his latest eight month stretch.
In the corner,
beneath a carrier bag,
lies the cot,
warm, whimpering,
forgot.
There is a certain cruelty
in time spent.
The clever creatures had to die,
the blue planet sinks.
I wonder what it knew?
To anyone who might be interested, I submitted a slightly tarted-up version of Metaphysic to a local online magazine, and lo and behold they've published it:
http://www.thebubble.org.uk/creative/metaphysic
They'll print any old rubbish these days...
That's a great poem Loka. I enjoyed it.Quote:
Originally Posted by Lokasenna
Very nice Lokasenna, I had no idea you were such a gifted poet.Quote:
Originally Posted by Lokasenna
Thanks Paul! I'm glad you enjoyed it!Quote:
Originally Posted by PaulClem
I'm really not, but thank you anyway!Quote:
Originally Posted by mortalterror
Well, the 'History' poetry contest has finished, and the entries have been taken down - for posterity's sake, if nothing else, here's my little piece about Ol' Queen Vic...
Victoria by Starlight
The mighty queen, in silent wealth adorned,
the crowd has left, the brittle party scorned.
Her simple grief and dress of midnight silk
confound and fright the fleeting reveller's ilk,
and so her leave she takes, forgoes the ball,
to softly tread the dim and thoughtful hall.
Along the room with memories filled she goes,
the faint and trembling light her shadow throws
upon the priceless treasures of her realm,
upon a Damask rose, an Indian helm,
on bright and softly glowing Afric gold,
on rings upon the hand he used to hold.
Each artefact calls back his face to her,
the shades of times that are, of times that were;
she wore the crown for him, for him the world
she sought to rule, the flag of war unfurled.
The queen into the garden steps, unsure
and frail, below the heavens' bright allure.
She weeps at last beneath the sky, the trees:
no lands to take, the stars alone to seize.
Hi Loki. I'm glad you put this back up. I did quite enjoy it because it's fairly well realised. I did have some issues with it however, mainly because I felt that the idiom and form would have been more appropriate to a poem about Elizabeth I. the wrenched syntax gave the piece an anachronistic archaicsism. For Victoria I think you should have been channelling Kipling instead of Dan Brown :D
There are some inconsistencies in the narrative: in line 2 you say, "the crowd has left" but in line 5 you say: "and so her leave she takes, forgoes the ball" and I also have a problem with the "thoughtful hall". Thought filled - maybe... I think the next line should start with 'Into' rather than 'along' and "on rings upon the hand he used to hold" means that the hand is still in there! a gruesome souvenir perhaps ;) you might try, "that graced" instead of upon, but I think you might consider revising the mention of a hand here and reserve it for the last line, where it would replace "lands". Two reasons for this, firstly it's more in keeping with the "widow" theme and secondly, it's historically inaccurate. Prince Albert died in 1861 and the empire continued to expand after this. In 1879 there was a nice little war in Zululand, and then there was Egypt and the Sudan in the 1890s.
However, as I said, I did enjoy it and I appreciated the fluidity of its execution. The poem would have been my second choice.
Live and be well - H
Edit: Sorry, I've just noticed that I've consistently misread the line about the hand as I kept reading it as "she used to hold", so it's not quite the grisly image I'd pictured - lol. However, I do still think that the reference to the hand should come in the last line and for the reason stated.
LLAP - H
This was by far my favorite, I voted for it. Beautiful and sad, with excellent rhythm.
The last two lines are haunting. I wanted to let whoever wrote Victoria know how much I enjoyed it. Wonderful work.
Brilliant poem, I enjoyed it. You can write both in prose and in beautifully elevated language- rare gift!Quote:
Originally Posted by Lokasenna
I knew all along that the poem Metaphysic was very good and I said so when I read it. Wish you the best as a writer, regardless of incidental disagreements out of different circumstances. The themes of Unmade are also very-well thought out and worth working toward publishing.
Oh no, not Dan Brown! Anything but him! The style of the poem was simply one of personal preference, but I have felt for a while that I wanted to write something about Victoria; I find the idea of a lonely and emotionally broken old woman at the centre of a vast empire quite a powerful idea.Quote:
Originally Posted by Hawkman
As for my habitual archaism... mea culpa, I will try to reign in my worst excesses!
The phrase 'the crowd has left' is actually agree grammatically with 'the mighty queen' of the first line, which is supposed to be the subject - so it is she who has left the crowd, not the crowd who has left her. I do, however, understand how such a mistake could be made - and yet whilst I could rewrite it as 'has left the crowd' I'm not sure that flows quite as well.
The use of the word 'thoughtful' was intended to be a sort of dual meaning: the hall is quiet and medative compared to the ballroom (hence 'thoughtful'), but also plays on the sound of the word suggesting that it is thought-full, filled with memories and ideas. I wanted to use the word 'along' to heighten the sense of progression - the hall is transformative space between the ballroom and the garden, with Victoria reducing in stature as she moves along it and is assailed by memories that are both desired and intolerable.
Yes, I know the Empire continued to expand after Albert - I was trying to convey the sense that her imperial ambitions have become part of her coping mechanism. I wanted Victoria to have her Alexander moment, he who weeped when there were no more worlds to conquer - this is Victoria facing up to the impossiblity of obtaining the only thing she truly wants, now that only the impossible stars are left for conquest.
Thank you, though, for the feedback - I really do appreciate it, and I'm glad you enjoyed the poem (your quibbles aside!).
Thank you very much - that's a very kind thing to say. I'm particularly pleased you liked the rhythm - as regular readers of my work will know, it has not always been my strong point! I'm very happy that you found it so affecting.Quote:
Originally Posted by Grit
Thank you, I'm glad you liked it - I was utterly delighted when it got published. I'm not sure it's a rare gift, but it was one of the few pieces I've ever written that I've been fairly satisfied with.Quote:
Originally Posted by tonywalt
Spoken like a gentleman - my thanks for your friendly and eloquent words. I think a bit of bickering and backbiting is inevitable on the forum, but don't take it personally - we're all friends here!Quote:
Originally Posted by cafolini
I think you're missing the point of my comment about the crowd etc. Although the wrenching of syntax does confuse meaning between whether the queen has left the crowd or vice versa, whichever it is, it is reported in the past tense, whereas the subsequent line about takes her leave is in the present. Therefore the inconsistency within the narrative means that she's taking her leave either after she left or after the crowd has left! However, as the opening lines are written, it is, 'the crowd' who have left the queen. The crowd forms the subject of the clause.
I was aware of you intension with regard to the thoughtful hall, but it reads as a pathetic fallacy of dubious merit, which is why I flagged it. The reason I flagged along is because it doesn't sit well with the room. People aren't generally referred to walking along a room, so it jars, although along or down the hall is ok. However, the sense of progression from hall to garden is still maintained without incongruity by replacing along with into, or even inside if you prefer. I agree that that the subject is a worthy one, but by inappropriately adhering to a style with wrenched syntax (unless for comic effect or parody) you weaken the emotional impact of the piece. Lastly I would take issue with your premise that she actively instigated wars of conquest. Queen Victoria was not an absolute monarch, and nearly all the wars the empire became embroiled in were the result of the ambitions of individuals like Sir Henry Bartle Frere, who, inadequately supervised, operated beyond their actual authority and in the case of the Zulu War brought down the government. Victoria didn't have anything to do with it. The empire was really an idea of government, for which the queen was merely a figurehead. Consequently, likening her to Alexander, weeping for no more worlds to conquer, is doubly misleading. Concentrating on her widowhood and isolation would be the better course. I take it you are familiar with Kipling's "The Widow at Windsor", which addressed the issue of conquest rather well.
I'm afraid I mentioned Dan Brown because of the stylistic similarity to his riddle verse beneath the rose on the box to the cryptex.
Live and be well - H
Quote:
Originally Posted by firefangled
i would say very well written. Lokasenna must come from Lothlorien:)
I`ve just recommended it via facebook.Quote:
Originally Posted by Lokasenna
Ah, I see - I understand now what you mean. I may try to work those first two lines into the correct tense, if I am able.Quote:
Originally Posted by Hawkman
Fair enough, I take the point - though I'm not sure I entirely agree with you on this one.Quote:
Originally Posted by Hawkman
True, though it was not my intention to portray Victoria with sober historical accuracy - a bit of artistic license being taken to make her into a more romantic figure, something which even artists of her day were doing. I'm not familiar with that Kipling poem, but I'll go and look it up - thanks for the tip!Quote:
Originally Posted by Hawkman
Thanks Hannah! I'm glad you like my poetry.Quote:
Originally Posted by hannah_arendt
I know I've not really been a presence on LitNet for a little while now. Life is just insanely busy these days, but I hope very soon to have more free time - and hopefully spend more time on here! I always end up logging on, seeing lots of interesting posts, but feeling like I don't have time to reply to them.
Anyway, I thought I'd share a little song I wrote the other day. It is, sadly, designed for an accent I do not have, and cannot imitate. I had intended it as a sort of blues/jazz style piece, in the manner of something Nina Simone or Billie Holiday might sing.
Apple a Day
Way back when in Eden,
God made an apple tree.
Said to Eve an' Adam:
"Don't touch it, let it be."
Eve went kinda crazy,
talkin' to Mister Snake:
"Woman, eat that apple,
it ain't no crime to take."
Evie ate the apple,
with evil got to grips.
Then knew herself and found
the fire between her hips.
Adam came a-lookin',
she gave him that sweet fruit.
He saw she were right fair
and wearin' birthday suit.
The Lord, He walked abroad,
lookin' for His chillun'.
Found 'em actin' scand'lous,
not as He was willin'.
Man He set to workin',
woman to givin' birth,
then poor ol' Mister Snake,
He ground into the earth.
And now we pass our days,
makin' love and workin',
and our old snakey friend,
he gone back to lurkin'.
We grow them apples now,
grow under every sky,
we take our daily fill,
we bake 'em into pie.
Keep the apples comin',
keep lovin' while you may.
Take joy in bein' free,
keep mean ol' God away.
Hi Loki,
This was fun. Love the payoff! lol.
Ooooh, I woke up this mornin'
and the rain, it came on down
Oh, I woke up this mornin'
Knew I had to go to town
But the weather it was poorin'
and there were far too many puddles on the ground...
;)
Live and be well - H
Thanks, Hawk! I'm glad you liked it!
I've been translating things again!
There's a rather beautiful Icelandic folk song called Krummavísur (The Raven's Verses), which probably dates from the 18th century (or possibly even late 17th). It goes as follows:
Krummi svaf í kletta gjá,
kaldri vetrar nóttu á,
verður margt að meini;
verður margt að meini;
fyrr en dagur fagur rann
freðið nefið dregur hann
undan stórum steini.
undan stórum steini.
Allt er frosið úti gor,
ekkert fæst við ströndu mor,
svengd er metti mína;
svengd er metti mína;
ef að húsum heim ég fer,
heimafrakkur bannar mér
seppi´ úr sorpi´ að tína.
seppi´ úr sorpi´ að tína.
Öll er þakin ísi jörð,
ekki séð á holta börð
fleygir fuglar geta;
fleygir fuglar geta;
en þó leiti út um mó,
auða hvergi lítur tó;
hvað á hrafn að éta?
hvað á hrafn að éta?
Sálaður á síðu lá
sauður feitur garði hjá,
fyrrum frár á velli.
fyrrum frár á velli.
'Krúnk, krúnk! nafnar, komið hér!
krúnk, krúnk! því oss búin er
krás á köldu svelli.
krás á köldu svelli.'
Like most folk songs, it really comes alive in the singing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tq4seuBFxIM
I wanted to translate it, but in such a way as to retain the original's rhythm and rhyme scheme - not an easy task, given the great economy of language that is possible in Icelandic. My translation is, however, reasonably faithful, and I hope it catches something of the desolate beauty of the original. I've tried singing it, and it does work!
Ravensong
Raven sits on ice-cold stone,
Through the night, he’s all alone,
In the dark there’s danger,
In the dark there’s danger.
Soon a winter sun will rise,
Burn the ice from off his eyes.
Weary flies the stranger,
Weary flies the stranger.
All the world is frozen still,
Waves are locked in frigid chill,
Gnawing hunger racks me,
Gnawing hunger racks me.
If a human farm I spy,
With garbage lying nearby,
Fat old dog attacks me,
Fat old dog attacks me.
All is icy everywhere,
At no table shall I share,
The bigger birds retreat,
The bigger birds retreat.
Though I fly from hill to scree,
Only whiteness can I see.
What can a raven eat?
What can a raven eat?
Somewhere in a snowy deep,
Lies the carcass of a sheep,
Whose breath has gone away,
Whose breath has gone away.
‘Ravens! Ravens! Ice and mud,
Now for once bear flesh and blood,
There is a feast today!
There is a feast today!’
It seems to me that your translation would fit the music. The only line I had a problem with was "With garbage lying nearby". Does the form have a name?
Many thanks, YesNo!Quote:
Originally Posted by YesNo
Is there any particular reason why you struggle with the 'garbage' line, if you don't mind my asking? I'll admit that there were a couple of lines I had reservations about, but strangely that wasn't one of them.
As for the form, I'm afraid I don't know - once we get past the fourteenth century, I'm not so hot on Scandinavian literary stylings!