Finding Solace in a Wood(Rev1)
#1
This is the same first rewrite that can be found about six or seven responses down. I'm Taking Todd's housekeeping advise and, as well, trying to find my way around the forums and all. So hopefully, this will look like I know what I'm doing (yeah right.) and not crash anything. And, without farther ado, the second posting of a first rewrite:


Finding Solace in a Wood (rewrite 1)

Ambling a forest path, soft earth
beneath his feet. Winding past
ancient trees. Tawny buck, branching antlers,
crossing the trail. Frozen
for a moment, then gone.
Picking a berry, spot of blood—Prickly vine,
but sweet,
purple black and juicy.
Beyond some pines he spies a lake,
crystal blue, and longing for its cleansing chill, he—

He stumbles.
Shackles fling him to the ground.
Imprisoned.
Here the master dictates.
Reality is found at the end of a whip.
Loads
and heavy labor are now his lot.

Captive.
Worn to devastation.
Living a life behind his eyes.
The forest, an assuaging lie.

In twilight he dines meager dole—
beans and rice.

Over tinkling chain on chains
and the muted groans of tired men,
under the first stars of the coming night,
a hoot owl calls.

…and longing for its cleansing chill, he—leaps,
gasping at the shock of cool, clear water.
He swims with strength unknown in years.
Plunging deep into the lake,
water embraces,
and he accepts its grasp
as freedom.


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Finding Solace in a Wood

Slowly ambled a forest path,
soft earth beneath his feet,
winding past ancient trees.

Grand buck across the trail.
Splendid antlers, frozen
in a moment, then gone.

He picks a berry. Prickly vine,
a bramble true, but delicious fruit,
purple black and juicy.

From a rugged crest he spies a lake.
And, longing to feel the water’s chill, he—
He stumbles, shackles fling him to the ground.

Here, only his prison cell exist.
The forest, a lie. Captive. Worn to devastation.
living life behind his eyes.

Oppressive walls bear hard.
Chains bind. Shuffled off to receive his dole,
finally, he sinks into that lake as last he dines.
Life is far to important to take seriously. Tongue
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#2
The style of the parts could be different. You have a shackled structure for both of them, maybe you want to. But maybe the first part could be more musical. It has something to do with a Robert Frost poem, an even bleaker sequel to that. The most musical parts of this are the more negligent, meaningwise, maybe it's all meant that way.
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#3
Wondering if you can give some more details on " negligent, meaningwise". That might give me a bit of traction. I am pondering rewriting with some different line/stanza configurations.
Life is far to important to take seriously. Tongue
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#4
It means nothing at all but that I meant in some sections you resorted to word painting, which isn't wrong with anything. Painting with sounds and images, meaning just what it says. It's not bad. I guess it's a light pastoral prison cell, and why not? It goes with the solace in the title. . . . Some might say it says too much in places, and not enough in others, but we can't balance all our effects on customed standards. . . . I was wondering about where it says his prison cell exist, and where it says, well, the last line as last he dines.
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#5
I enjoy the first part very much, in italics, and think there could be even more contrast between the awakening into a prison cell and out of a pleasant dream and observation. Maybe describing the prison cell more, adding more "he," as in describing what "he" is doing and "his" thoughts are after he stumbles. It goes from concrete imagery to very abstract. Nevertheless, I see that the prison cell is the wood and that ties the title in nicely. But should there also be a clear solace found at the end? Maybe not.
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#6
Thank you for the thoughts all. I am going to ponder your ideas and then have a go at a rewrite.
Life is far to important to take seriously. Tongue
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#7
Hi, there are parts of this I like. I think I'll spend my time focusing on elements you might consider editing. 

(10-09-2019, 02:06 AM)jt_lewis Wrote:  Finding Solace in a Wood

Slowly ambled a forest path, --This reads slightly off to me. First off ambled already contains the idea of slow. I also want ta word like "along" or some such after it because it sounds slightly choppy.
soft earth beneath his feet, --Third person is fine and reasonable though it might have more immediacy as first person.
winding past ancient trees.

Grand buck across the trail.--There are moments where I question your modifier choices. Words like Grand,  and Splendid  and  Delicious below are really abstract and don't add any sensory or concrete touchpoints. I  think you would be well served by going a bit deeper and choosing words that do more for you.
Splendid antlers, frozen
in a moment, then gone.

He picks a berry. Prickly vine,
a bramble true, but delicious fruit,--to my point above prickly and bramble do good work here. You could cut delicious and trust that juicy conveyed a sense of good tasting fruit. 
purple black and juicy.

From a rugged crest he spies a lake.
And, longing to feel the water’s chill, he—Not sure this hitch buys you anything though I can see what you're attempting. 
He stumbles, shackles fling him to the ground.--The first point of true surprise is the shackles.

Here, only his prison cell exist. --Should this be exists?
The forest, a lie. Captive. Worn to devastation.
living life behind his eyes.

Oppressive walls bear hard.--Oppressive is too telling. Minimize the exposition here perhaps.
Chains bind. Shuffled off to receive his dole,
finally, he sinks into that lake as last he dines.
Just a few thoughts to consider.

Best,

Todd
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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#8
(10-09-2019, 02:06 AM)jt_lewis Wrote:  Finding Solace in a Wood

Slowly ambled a forest path,
soft earth beneath his feet,
winding past ancient trees.

Grand buck across the trail.
Splendid antlers, frozen
in a moment, then gone.

He picks a berry. Prickly vine,
a bramble true, but delicious fruit,
purple black and juicy.

From a rugged crest he spies a lake.
And, longing to feel the water’s chill, he—
He stumbles, shackles fling him to the ground.

Here, only his prison cell exist.
The forest, a lie. Captive. Worn to devastation.
living life behind his eyes.

Oppressive walls bear hard.
Chains bind. Shuffled off to receive his dole,
finally, he sinks into that lake as last he dines.

So, did a bit of a rework on this. I like this a bit better (but then what would be the point of making it worse, right?)
I appreciate everyone's comments so far.

Finding Solace in a Wood (rewrite 1)

Ambling a forest path, soft earth
beneath his feet. Winding past
ancient trees. Tawny buck, branching antlers,
crossing the trail. Frozen
for a moment, then gone.
Picking a berry, spot of blood—Prickly vine,
but sweet,
purple black and juicy.
Beyond some pines he spies a lake,
crystal blue, and longing for its cleansing chill, he—

He stumbles.
Shackles fling him to the ground.
Imprisoned.
Here the master dictates.
Reality is found at the end of a whip.
Loads
and heavy labor are now his lot.

Captive.
Worn to devastation.
Living a life behind his eyes.
The forest, an assuaging lie.

In twilight he dines meager dole—
beans and rice.

Over tinkling chain on chains
and the muted groans of tired men,
under the first stars of the coming night,
a hoot owl calls.

…and longing for its cleansing chill, he—leaps,
gasping at the shock of cool, clear water.
He swims with strength unknown in years.
Plunging deep into the lake,
water embraces,
and he accepts its grasp
as freedom.
Life is far to important to take seriously. Tongue
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#9
Before I get into the revision, just a housekeeping note (in general revisions are better done as edits placed above the original poems. Otherwise, people may not read your thread and will keep commenting on the original version. You could also rename the title adding Revison, Rev, or Rev 1 to the end (or some such). Then you could post a note that you've done a revision to bump the thread.

___

Well, that was much improved. And sadly all revisions do not result in immediate improvement. This one did though. A few thoughts on this pass:

(10-11-2019, 10:04 AM)jt_lewis Wrote:  Finding Solace in a Wood (rewrite 1)

Ambling a forest path, soft earth --I like the pacing of these longer lines.
beneath his feet. Winding past
ancient trees. Tawny buck, branching antlers,
crossing the trail. Frozen
for a moment, then gone.
Picking a berry, spot of blood—Prickly vine,--some really nice choices with tawny and branching above and spot of blood especially.
but sweet,
purple black and juicy.
Beyond some pines he spies a lake,
crystal blue, and longing for its cleansing chill, he—

He stumbles.
Shackles fling him to the ground.
Imprisoned.
Here the master dictates.
Reality is found at the end of a whip.--You could cut found at if you wanted to
Loads
and heavy labor are now his lot.

Captive.
Worn to devastation.--This is a bit too melodramatic for me. It may work better with an image.
Living a life behind his eyes.
The forest, an assuaging lie.

In twilight he dines meager dole— --It feels like you might need an "on" here before meager.
beans and rice.

Over tinkling chain on chains
and the muted groans of tired men, --for parallel structure with the above you might want to cut "the"
under the first stars of the coming night,
a hoot owl calls.

…and longing for its cleansing chill, he—leaps,
gasping at the shock of cool, clear water.
He swims with strength unknown in years.
Plunging deep into the lake,
water embraces,
and he accepts its grasp
as freedom.--Just a thought , you might be better served cutting this line and ending with a bit of ambiguity.
Best,

Todd
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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#10
just a note to say I posted a revision
Life is far to important to take seriously. Tongue
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