when waking, like an animal, upon
summer's motherly call, the day people,
who strive and connect, without asking why,
view again the glades, and tranquil lakes, I
lie in wait for winter's breath, cold and tinged
with a lecher's disdain, eager to show
me his landscapes, like an art student,
zealous but talented. and so, with grim
and mournful heart, when my time does befall,
I stumble through this dense forest, like a
painted hall; dark wing of a hospital,
each tree a door concealing pain, until
I find you here again, my companion, my
sole survivor, my one other night horse.
Can't say I fully understand the identity of the "night horse" but the poem gave enough of an impression of it... I like how mysterious it is, actually. A very dark, strange, and thoughtful piece, with an intriguing narrator/protagonist. The images are equal parts striking and subdued, and there's so much simmering under the surface. Can't fault any of it, really. Excellent piece.
(10-05-2010, 04:39 PM)addy Wrote: [ -> ]Can't say I fully understand the identity of the "night horse" but the poem gave enough of an impression of it... I like how mysterious it is, actually. A very dark, strange, and thoughtful piece, with an intriguing narrator/protagonist. The images are equal parts striking and subdued, and there's so much simmering under the surface. Can't fault any of it, really. Excellent piece.
Thanks for the feedback and kind words, addy
The "night horse" was just a loose metaphor, for a lover and fellow outcast. Kind of like the phrase "lone ranger." I wrote this as a romantic piece, in the style of an old, 19th century sonnet, except without the same airtight construction. I measured the metrical feet and syllable count as best I could, but I just don't have the skill to even approach the meticulous ordering of words and sounds that greats like Browning did. I doubt any modern writers can.
(10-04-2010, 09:25 AM)Heslopian Wrote: [ -> ]when waking, like an animal, upon
summer's motherly call, the day people,
who strive and connect, without asking why,
view again the glades, and tranquil lakes, I
lie in wait for winter's breath, cold and tinged
with a lecher's disdain, eager to show
me his landscapes, like an art student,
zealous but talented. and so, with grim
and mournful heart, when my time does befall,
I stumble through this dense forest, like a
painted hall; dark wing of a hospital,
each tree a door concealing pain, until
I find you here again, my companion, my
sole survivor, my one other night horse.
i missed this one
i'd liked to have seen a decent rhyme scheme.
other than that if you didn't know it was a sonnet it wouldn't make a difference. you told addy what it was about but none the less i'll reply as what i took from it.;
at first it felt werewolvish. i dismissed vampyre's
then as i read it it the imagary led me to think of unicorns. (i'm not tripping, honestly)
it has a longing ingrained in the words and images.
and only one simile.
the poem itself is quite compelling.
thanks for the read jack.
(10-06-2010, 09:23 AM)billy Wrote: [ -> ] (10-04-2010, 09:25 AM)Heslopian Wrote: [ -> ]when waking, like an animal, upon
summer's motherly call, the day people,
who strive and connect, without asking why,
view again the glades, and tranquil lakes, I
lie in wait for winter's breath, cold and tinged
with a lecher's disdain, eager to show
me his landscapes, like an art student,
zealous but talented. and so, with grim
and mournful heart, when my time does befall,
I stumble through this dense forest, like a
painted hall; dark wing of a hospital,
each tree a door concealing pain, until
I find you here again, my companion, my
sole survivor, my one other night horse.
i missed this one
i'd liked to have seen a decent rhyme scheme.
other than that if you didn't know it was a sonnet it wouldn't make a difference. you told addy what it was about but none the less i'll reply as what i took from it.;
at first it felt werewolvish. i dismissed vampyre's
then as i read it it the imagary led me to think of unicorns. (i'm not tripping, honestly)
it has a longing ingrained in the words and images.
and only one simile.
the poem itself is quite compelling.
thanks for the read jack.
Thanks for the feedback, Billy
Yeah, I did originally want a consistent rhyme scheme, but I was having so much trouble measuring the syllables, whilst also maintaining syntax, that I became lazy. See, now this is why I prefer free verse; they're nowhere near as much hard work! And my metrical measurements still blew up in my face; hence the few sporadic internal rhymes: a slapshod way of trying to affect rhythm.
Actually there were three similes: "like an animal," "like an art student" and "like a painted hall," but even that's not as many as I usually use! That overkill of comparison is something I've picked up from Sexton and Plath, I think; most of their poems have at least one simile.
Yeah, people on DU have talked about black stallions, mythical creatures, and all these other great images which never really crossed my mind; I thought my narrative was simply about two manic depressives in love. Reminds me of something that Harold Bloom, an American critic, said about how a reader perceives poetry, that their interpretation "may differ from the author's and be equally valid - it may even be better."
(10-06-2010, 11:16 AM)Heslopian Wrote: [ -> ] (10-06-2010, 09:23 AM)billy Wrote: [ -> ][quote='Heslopian' pid='40826' dateline='1286151953']
when waking, like an animal, upon
summer's motherly call, the day people,
who strive and connect, without asking why,
view again the glades, and tranquil lakes, I
lie in wait for winter's breath, cold and tinged
with a lecher's disdain, eager to show
me his landscapes, like an art student,
zealous but talented. and so, with grim
and mournful heart, when my time does befall,
I stumble through this dense forest, like a
painted hall; dark wing of a hospital,
each tree a door concealing pain, until
I find you here again, my companion, my
sole survivor, my one other night horse.
Yeah, people on DU have talked about black stallions, mythical creatures, and all these other great images which never really crossed my mind; I thought my narrative was simply about two manic depressives in love. Reminds me of something that Harold Bloon, an American critic, said about how a reader perceives poetry, that their interpretation "may differ from the author's and be equally valid - it may even be better."
i was thinking of unicorns more as metaphorical beasties. that someone
special which the poem talks of.
as for the sonnet part. maybe if you hadn't mentioned it i wouldn't have noticed the lack of end rhyme
if i only noticed one syl it might be because the other two worked so well.
though i think i'm prob just trying to cover my ass
i think bloom was right. for every reader a poem has; it has the same number of interpretations.
(10-04-2010, 09:25 AM)Heslopian Wrote: [ -> ]when waking, like an animal, upon
summer's motherly call, the day people,
who strive and connect, without asking why,
view again the glades, and tranquil lakes, I
lie in wait for winter's breath, cold and tinged
with a lecher's disdain, eager to show
me his landscapes, like an art student,
zealous but talented. and so, with grim
and mournful heart, when my time does befall,
I stumble through this dense forest, like a
painted hall; dark wing of a hospital,
each tree a door concealing pain, until
I find you here again, my companion, my
sole survivor, my one other night horse.
I enjoyed your poem but the lack of a clear meter threw off my reading of it. Try iambic on either this one or the next one though I appreciated the attempt at it in the pentameter structure
(10-06-2010, 02:19 PM)MarkusSinclair Wrote: [ -> ] (10-04-2010, 09:25 AM)Heslopian Wrote: [ -> ]when waking, like an animal, upon
summer's motherly call, the day people,
who strive and connect, without asking why,
view again the glades, and tranquil lakes, I
lie in wait for winter's breath, cold and tinged
with a lecher's disdain, eager to show
me his landscapes, like an art student,
zealous but talented. and so, with grim
and mournful heart, when my time does befall,
I stumble through this dense forest, like a
painted hall; dark wing of a hospital,
each tree a door concealing pain, until
I find you here again, my companion, my
sole survivor, my one other night horse.
I enjoyed your poem but the lack of a clear meter threw off my reading of it. Try iambic on either this one or the next one though I appreciated the attempt at it in the pentameter structure
Thanks for the feedback, Markus
Elusive and romantic and
wild, not in a crass way but in the true and vaguely tragic sense... I would say "night horse" is a perfect metaphor then
Night horse is a good poem. compelling, romantic, mysterious, great as it is.
And guess your name is Jack. How'd ya rate more stars than me already???? Ya brat! sheesh.
I'm just a three, yes I'm only a three and I'm sitting here....
ha ha.
Thanks very much Bianca
As for the stars, I'm not exactly sure how they work. I think I might have more because I'm a mod. I doubt it's because of my charm and good looks...
(10-13-2010, 12:00 PM)Bianca Alabaster Wrote: [ -> ]Night horse is a good poem. compelling, romantic, mysterious, great as it is.
And guess your name is Jack. How'd ya rate more stars than me already???? Ya brat! sheesh.
I'm just a three, yes I'm only a three and I'm sitting here....
ha ha.
sorry B it's cos he's a mod, he's even got more than addy
normally they're accrued on post count but mods get an auto amount.
(10-04-2010, 09:25 AM)Heslopian Wrote: [ -> ]and so, with grim
and mournful heart, when my time does befall,
I stumble through this dense forest,like a
painted hall, ; dark wing of a hospital,
each tree a door concealing pain, until
I find you here again, my companion, my
sole survivor, my one other night horse.
I enjoyed your poem, and felt it in my heart ... though with a contented sadness.
Love your words ... especially the bolded ones.
Thank you very much, Kath3; glad my poem could reach you
Emotional connection with the reader is always a wonderful thing, I think.