We go to nose the evening rabbit; shadowed, but by scent alive.
She looks to me for height hence vision; I tilt the sun from ageing eyes
and please her with exciting gestures, hoping for a hopping prey.
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, legs still run when bid “Away!”
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail.
Each chase is one less failure, one hope that joy will never fail.

The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind,
so coursing comes with sought for quarry; these days only brave and blind
will feel the just and gentle jaws, light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench, she puzzles to observe life force
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run fast and free,
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bites of flea.

No blessing that each death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams;
for this old girl there are no virtues, save to serve her master’s dreams.
She has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, every day is moments summed.
But I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow or too far to make the run.
She looks to me and I smile on her… she and I get old as one.


edit 0.01
We go to nose the evening rabbit; shadowed, though by scent alive.
She looks to me for height and vision, I tilt the sun from ageing eyes
and please her with excited gestures, hoping for a hopping prey.
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, joints still slide when bid “Away!”
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail.
Each chase is one less disappointment, one hope that joy will never fail.

The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind,
so coursing comes with sought for quarry, but these days only brave and blind
will feel the just and gentle jaws, light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench, she puzzles to observe life force
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run fast and free,
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bites of flea.

No matter that each death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams;
for this old girl there are no virtues, only to serve her master’s dreams.
She has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, the day is all her moments summed,
but I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow or too far to make the run
she looks to me and I smile on her…and she and I get old as one.

Tectak
July 2013

Aaaaawwwwww

Quote:We go to nose the evening rabbit, shadowed, though by scent alive.
She looks to me for height and vision, I tilt the sun from ageing eyes
A semicolon's needed after the initial independent clause at least, though I think a period would vary the sentence length a little more for the reader.
and please her with excited gestures, hoping for a hopping prey.
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, joints still slide when bid “Away!”
Maybe modulate the pause to be a little longer after "purpose" using an em dash.
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail.
Each chase is one less disappointment, one hope that joy will never fail.
It took a second to figure out what you meant by "hope". First I read it like, "One (used as a subject) hope(s) that joy (the chase) will never fail." Then I realized you meant "one less disappointment, one (more) hope that joy will never fail."

The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind,
so coursing comes with every quarry, but these days only brave and blind
will feel the just and gentle jaws, light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench, she puzzles to observe life force
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run fast and free,
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bite of flea.
The two long sentences in a row had good imagery, but got a little wearying.

No matter that each death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams;
for this old girl there are no virtues, only to serve her master’s dreams.
She has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, the day is all her moments summed,
but I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow or too far to make the run
she looks to me and I smile on her…and she and I get old as one.
The "dog years" and "man years" don't quite match up quantitatively (7:1), with masters outliving several dogs, but if you were both really old, I could go for it. At least it's not about a man and wife growing old together. Been done.

(06-14-2013, 06:29 AM)tectak Wrote:  We go to nose the evening rabbit, shadowed, though by scent alive.
She looks to me for height and vision, I tilt the sun from ageing eyes
and please her with excited gestures, hoping for a hopping prey. -- I don't know about hopping here. Run, Rabbit Run!!!
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, joints still slide when bid “Away!”
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail.
Each chase is one less disappointment, one hope that joy will never fail.-- You do sort of repeat yourself here but you manage some symmetry and rhyme.

The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind,
so coursing comes with sought for quarry, but these days only brave and blind
will feel the just and gentle jaws, light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench, she puzzles to observe life force
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run fast and free,
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bite of flea.--In this flea three blood mingled be?
No matter that each death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams; -screams? who is screaming?
for this old girl there are no virtues, only to serve her master’s dreams.
She has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, the day is all her moments summed,
but I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow or too far to make the run
she looks to me and I smile on her…and she and I get old as one.

Tectak
July 2013

Aaaaawwwwww

Unfortunately my brain is not up to par at the moment but I did notice a certain symmetry in this poem each stanza is 6 lines and each line looks visually of similar length fit for rhyming and I do love a morbid tone. the frazzled smiley displays my state of mind.

(06-14-2013, 07:38 AM)svanhoeven Wrote:  

Quote:We go to nose the evening rabbit, shadowed, though by scent alive.
She looks to me for height and vision, I tilt the sun from ageing eyes
A semicolon's needed after the initial independent clause at least, though I think a period would vary the sentence length a little more for the reader.
and please her with excited gestures, hoping for a hopping prey.
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, joints still slide when bid “Away!”
Maybe modulate the pause to be a little longer after "purpose" using an em dash.
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail.
Each chase is one less disappointment, one hope that joy will never fail.
It took a second to figure out what you meant by "hope". First I read it like, "One (used as a subject) hope(s) that joy (the chase) will never fail." Then I realized you meant "one less disappointment, one (more) hope that joy will never fail."

The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind,
so coursing comes with every quarry, but these days only brave and blind
will feel the just and gentle jaws, light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench, she puzzles to observe life force
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run fast and free,
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bite of flea.
The two long sentences in a row had good imagery, but got a little wearying.

No matter that each death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams;
for this old girl there are no virtues, only to serve her master’s dreams.
She has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, the day is all her moments summed,
but I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow or too far to make the run
she looks to me and I smile on her…and she and I get old as one.
The "dog years" and "man years" don't quite match up quantitatively (7:1), with masters outliving several dogs, but if you were both really old, I could go for it. At least it's not about a man and wife growing old together. Been done.

Thanks for this. Some worthy points which will be credited. On the "actuality", I am 64, my dog 9. I guess she will be my last! ...but yes, we are both slowing down I don't chase much of anything any more.
Best,
tectak

---

(06-14-2013, 07:46 AM)Brownlie Wrote:  

(06-14-2013, 06:29 AM)tectak Wrote:  We go to nose the evening rabbit, shadowed, though by scent alive.
She looks to me for height and vision, I tilt the sun from ageing eyes
and please her with excited gestures, hoping for a hopping prey. -- I don't know about hopping here. Run, Rabbit Run!!!
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, joints still slide when bid “Away!”
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail.
Each chase is one less disappointment, one hope that joy will never fail.-- You do sort of repeat yourself here but you manage some symmetry and rhyme.

The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind,
so coursing comes with sought for quarry, but these days only brave and blind
will feel the just and gentle jaws, light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench, she puzzles to observe life force
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run fast and free,
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bite of flea.--In this flea three blood mingled be?Myxomatosis is carried by a flea. Rife at the moment.
No matter that each death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams; -screams? who is screaming? Rabbits scream when caught
for this old girl there are no virtues, only to serve her master’s dreams.
She has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, the day is all her moments summed,
but I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow or too far to make the run
she looks to me and I smile on her…and she and I get old as one.

Tectak
July 2013

Aaaaawwwwww

Unfortunately my brain is not up to par at the moment but I did notice a certain symmetry in this poem each stanza is 6 lines and each line looks visually of similar length fit for rhyming and I do love a morbid tone. the frazzled smiley displays my state of mind.

Get well soon.
Best,
tectak

Oh yeah, I just figured out why the "bite of flea" bothered me- it sounds like an ingredient in a witch's casserole. Maybe "bites of fleas"?

Hi I really like the subject of this poem. It will resonate with a lot of people. I miss my dog, Jake. Although he got senile and annoying. Anywho.

What do I feel about the form and the handling? I think it is partially successful, but it is undone by a certain lack of clarity. And I think that comes from the exigencies of the metre, which calls on you to keep packing more and more detail into a line. Also quite often the metre falls down because your stresses are in the wrong place. I've made some suggestions about fixes, but I couldn't make some because I wasn't sure what you were saying and couldn't paraphrase. Of course it is OK to dick around with the metre, if you want to make an effect (particularly to put the stress on a particular word) but there are some words that are stressed but less stressy than others, and it's all relative to the neighbouring words. I'm sure you know all this but it wasn't quite clear you did in this piece.

(06-14-2013, 06:29 AM)tectak Wrote:  We go to nose the evening rabbit; shadowed, though by scent alive. don't understand
She looks to me for height why does she care about your height as such? Unclear and vision, I tilt the sun from ageing eyes do ageing eyes have more trouble with the sun than young eyes? Somehow a bit unhappy this
and please goad? her with excited gestures, hoping for a hopping prey.
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, joints still slide oddwhen bid “Away!”
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail.
Each chase is lose "is" one less disappointment - hope that joy will never fail. like another reader, wasn't clear about this so couldn't quite fix the rhythm, which is broken here.[b/]

The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind,[b]spoors are tiny seeds and can't be split by the wind
so coursing comes with sought-for quarry, but these days only brave and blind rabbits? myxy? Confused ... the rhythm is broken
will feel the just and gentle jaws, : light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench clunky[b/], she puzzles to observe life force [b]the life
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run one that once ran fast and free,
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bites of flea. sounds like myxy![b/]

No matter that each death is sudden [b]What matters it that death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams; unclear
for lose this old girl there are has got no virtues, only to serve her master’s dreams. she just wants to serve the boss
She lose has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, the day is all her moments summed,
but I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow, or too far to make the run
she looks to me and I smile on her…and she and I get old as one.
Looking at me, I smile at her. She and I are old as one

Tectak
July 2013

Aaaaawwwwww

(06-17-2013, 05:55 PM)wystan1000 Wrote:  Hi I really like the subject of this poem. It will resonate with a lot of people. I miss my dog, Jake. Although he got senile and annoying. Anywho.

What do I feel about the form and the handling? I think it is partially successful, but it is undone by a certain lack of clarity. And I think that comes from the exigencies of the metre, which calls on you to keep packing more and more detail into a line. Also quite often the metre falls down because your stresses are in the wrong place. I've made some suggestions about fixes, but I couldn't make some because I wasn't sure what you were saying and couldn't paraphrase. Of course it is OK to dick around with the metre, if you want to make an effect (particularly to put the stress on a particular word) but there are some words that are stressed but less stressy than others, and it's all relative to the neighbouring words. I'm sure you know all this but it wasn't quite clear you did in this piece.

(06-14-2013, 06:29 AM)tectak Wrote:  We go to nose the evening rabbit; shadowed, though by scent alive. don't understand
She looks to me for height why does she care about your height as such? Unclear and vision, I tilt the sun from ageing eyes do ageing eyes have more trouble with the sun than young eyes? Somehow a bit unhappy this
and please goad? her with excited gestures, hoping for a hopping prey.
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, joints still slide oddwhen bid “Away!”
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail.
Each chase is lose "is" one less disappointment - hope that joy will never fail. like another reader, wasn't clear about this so couldn't quite fix the rhythm, which is broken here.[b/]

The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind,[b]spoors are tiny seeds and can't be split by the wind
so coursing comes with sought-for quarry, but these days only brave and blind rabbits? myxy? Confused ... the rhythm is broken
will feel the just and gentle jaws, : light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench clunky[b/], she puzzles to observe life force [b]the life
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run one that once ran fast and free,
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bites of flea. sounds like myxy![b/]

No matter that each death is sudden [b]What matters it that death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams; unclear
for lose this old girl there are has got no virtues, only to serve her master’s dreams. she just wants to serve the boss
She lose has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, the day is all her moments summed,
but I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow, or too far to make the run
she looks to me and I smile on her…and she and I get old as one.
Looking at me, I smile at her. She and I are old as one

Tectak
July 2013

Aaaaawwwwww

Thanks for ALL of this but I am a mycologist and pedant to boot. SPORES are "tiny seeds" (or not, actually), SPOOR is the scent and signs of critters!
Best,
I will get back. Tctak.

A new word!

(06-17-2013, 07:20 PM)tectak Wrote:  

(06-17-2013, 05:55 PM)wystan1000 Wrote:  Hi I really like the subject of this poem. It will resonate with a lot of people. I miss my dog, Jake. Although he got senile and annoying. Anywho.

What do I feel about the form and the handling? I think it is partially successful, but it is undone by a certain lack of clarity. And I think that comes from the exigencies of the metre, which calls on you to keep packing more and more detail into a line. Also quite often the metre falls down because your stresses are in the wrong place. I've made some suggestions about fixes, but I couldn't make some because I wasn't sure what you were saying and couldn't paraphrase. Of course it is OK to dick around with the metre, if you want to make an effect (particularly to put the stress on a particular word) but there are some words that are stressed but less stressy than others, and it's all relative to the neighbouring words. I'm sure you know all this but it wasn't quite clear you did in this piece.

(06-14-2013, 06:29 AM)tectak Wrote:  We go to nose the evening rabbit; shadowed, though by scent alive. don't understand
She looks to me for height why does she care about your height as such? Unclear and vision, I tilt the sun from ageing eyes do ageing eyes have more trouble with the sun than young eyes? Somehow a bit unhappy this
and please goad? her with excited gestures, hoping for a hopping prey.
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, joints still slide oddwhen bid “Away!”
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail.
Each chase is lose "is" one less disappointment - hope that joy will never fail. like another reader, wasn't clear about this so couldn't quite fix the rhythm, which is broken here.[b/]

The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind,[b]spoors are tiny seeds and can't be split by the wind
so coursing comes with sought-for quarry, but these days only brave and blind rabbits? myxy? Confused ... the rhythm is broken
will feel the just and gentle jaws, : light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench clunky[b/], she puzzles to observe life force [b]the life
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run one that once ran fast and free,
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bites of flea. sounds like myxy![b/]

No matter that each death is sudden [b]What matters it that death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams; unclear
for lose this old girl there are has got no virtues, only to serve her master’s dreams. she just wants to serve the boss
She lose has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, the day is all her moments summed,
but I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow, or too far to make the run
she looks to me and I smile on her…and she and I get old as one.
Looking at me, I smile at her. She and I are old as one

Tectak
July 2013

Aaaaawwwwww

Thanks for ALL of this but I am a mycologist and pedant to boot. SPORES are "tiny seeds" (or not, actually), SPOOR is the scent and signs of critters!
Best,
I will get back. Tctak.

(06-17-2013, 07:25 PM)wystan1000 Wrote:  A new word!

(06-17-2013, 07:20 PM)tectak Wrote:  

(06-17-2013, 05:55 PM)wystan1000 Wrote:  Hi I really like the subject of this poem. It will resonate with a lot of people. I miss my dog, Jake. Although he got senile and annoying. Anywho.

What do I feel about the form and the handling? I think it is partially successful, but it is undone by a certain lack of clarity. And I think that comes from the exigencies of the metre, which calls on you to keep packing more and more detail into a line. Also quite often the metre falls down because your stresses are in the wrong place. I've made some suggestions about fixes, but I couldn't make some because I wasn't sure what you were saying and couldn't paraphrase. Of course it is OK to dick around with the metre, if you want to make an effect (particularly to put the stress on a particular word) but there are some words that are stressed but less stressy than others, and it's all relative to the neighbouring words. I'm sure you know all this but it wasn't quite clear you did in this piece.

Thanks for ALL of this but I am a mycologist and pedant to boot. SPORES are "tiny seeds" (or not, actually), SPOOR is the scent and signs of critters!
Best,
I will get back. Tectak.

Hi wystan,
OK. If anything is not clear it is my failing. I take the rap because I don't do profound. So if I explain and it is still not clear, I will need to change it. Whilst I accept that the reader has to put some effort into translation, I believe that the onus is on the writer to make clear....some disagree. Fine.
So:
"Shadowed but by scent alive." It is evening. There are shadows. There are scents. The place is alive with rabbits. That's all.
She looks to me for height and vision. Agreed. "Height hence vision..." clarifies. She knows that I can see further than her because my eyes are...er....higher than hers
"I tilt the sun from ageing eyes". I tilt my eyes down/away from the low sun. Yes. Old eyes DO suffer from bright light more than young eyes!
"Goad"? No. "Please", yes. My call on this one I don't do dog goading.
"Each chase is..." I canot see the broken rhythm and so I must be reading it with a mid-atlantic accent. This is straight octameter with a 16 syllable count. Once I get to octameter I tend to stray in other stanzas because there is a very strong tendency to read the bloody thing out loud and with this many feet I have chance to bend things a little to fit. It is much more difficult with short lines....hence long lines! You may still be correct but I just can't see it in this line.
Spoor, spore. yes. Well. My field. Say no more.
"By accidental dental..." Yes. Too clever by half. You are right. The pun is ill-placed though very apposite. It happens as described. Often. The rest of this line may require looking at but again, I read it 8 metric feet. I will read it again as written. Yep. Still get 16.Help.
Sure is myxy. Prevalent right now. Mercy killings abound. I shorten "quarry" to (almost) one syllable as "kwory" not "kwa-ree"
"No matter that each death..." Yes. "Matter" is the problem. It has negative implications whereas I was trying to say that the dog kills quickly but not through any virtuosity. So "No blessing that each death is sudden" it will become. Very good catch. Thanks.
The rest will be worked on.
Hope I clarify rather than irritate.
Thanks again.
Best,
tectak
You will be credited on the edit

Hopefully, I can get on a keyboard later and better examine this thing. I like when you describe the dead rodent I feel it works as a metaphor for much more. The line with the flea seems like a forced rhyme' with bite of flea is awkward. I think you should keep editing this one and repeatedly examine it with fresh eyes after the fervor of creation has faded. I'd like more on fungi but that's probably boring to you by now.

---

If you have to put the dog down make sure the narrative is clear. I think you are smart enough to be profound. Death and age are certainly grand themes,

Great. Look forward to it... FYI when I say rhythm is broken, I mean when it's fallen out of iambics, not that there aren't enough feet. But sure you knew that's what I meant (?)
Oh well let's have a look after the edit.

(06-17-2013, 08:31 PM)tectak Wrote:  

(06-17-2013, 07:25 PM)wystan1000 Wrote:  A new word!

(06-17-2013, 07:20 PM)tectak Wrote:  Thanks for ALL of this but I am a mycologist and pedant to boot. SPORES are "tiny seeds" (or not, actually), SPOOR is the scent and signs of critters!
Best,
I will get back. Tectak.

Hi wystan,
OK. If anything is not clear it is my failing. I take the rap because I don't do profound. So if I explain and it is still not clear, I will need to change it. Whilst I accept that the reader has to put some effort into translation, I believe that the onus is on the writer to make clear....some disagree. Fine.
So:
"Shadowed but by scent alive." It is evening. There are shadows. There are scents. The place is alive with rabbits. That's all.
She looks to me for height and vision. Agreed. "Height hence vision..." clarifies. She knows that I can see further than her because my eyes are...er....higher than hers
"I tilt the sun from ageing eyes". I tilt my eyes down/away from the low sun. Yes. Old eyes DO suffer from bright light more than young eyes!
"Goad"? No. "Please", yes. My call on this one I don't do dog goading.
"Each chase is..." I canot see the broken rhythm and so I must be reading it with a mid-atlantic accent. This is straight octameter with a 16 syllable count. Once I get to octameter I tend to stray in other stanzas because there is a very strong tendency to read the bloody thing out loud and with this many feet I have chance to bend things a little to fit. It is much more difficult with short lines....hence long lines! You may still be correct but I just can't see it in this line.
Spoor, spore. yes. Well. My field. Say no more.
"By accidental dental..." Yes. Too clever by half. You are right. The pun is ill-placed though very apposite. It happens as described. Often. The rest of this line may require looking at but again, I read it 8 metric feet. I will read it again as written. Yep. Still get 16.Help.
Sure is myxy. Prevalent right now. Mercy killings abound. I shorten "quarry" to (almost) one syllable as "kwory" not "kwa-ree"
"No matter that each death..." Yes. "Matter" is the problem. It has negative implications whereas I was trying to say that the dog kills quickly but not through any virtuosity. So "No blessing that each death is sudden" it will become. Very good catch. Thanks.
The rest will be worked on.
Hope I clarify rather than irritate.
Thanks again.
Best,
tectak
You will be credited on the edit

(06-17-2013, 10:46 PM)Brownlie Wrote:  Hopefully, I can get on a keyboard later and better examine this thing. I like when you describe the dead rodent I feel it works as a metaphor for much more. The line with the flea seems like a forced rhyme' with bite of flea is awkward. I think you should keep editing this one and repeatedly examine it with fresh eyes after the fervor of creation has faded. I'd like more on fungi but that's probably boring to you by now.

---

If you have to put the dog down make sure the narrative is clear.

SHIT BROWNLIE!
I hope I won't be putting her or ME down for a while yet!

Not rodents....rabbits....first line. Myxomatosis...carried by a flea bite.
No metaphor....just a straight forward dead rabbit
Simple poem, no profundity.
Thanks for your take, though. It helps me understand your poetry!
Best,
tectak

(06-14-2013, 06:29 AM)tectak Wrote:  We go to nose the evening rabbit; shadowed, but by scent alive.
She looks to me for height hence vision; I tilt the sun from ageing eyes
and please her with exciting gestures, hoping for a hopping prey.
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, legs still run when bid “Away!”
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail.
Each chase is one less disappointment, one hope that joy will never fail.

The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind,
so coursing comes with sought for quarry; these days only brave and blind
will feel the just and gentle jaws, light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench, she puzzles to observe life force
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run fast and free,
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bites of flea.

No blessing that each death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams;
for this old girl there are no virtues, save to serve her master’s dreams.
She has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, every day is moments summed.
But I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow or too far to make the run.
She looks to me and I smile on her… she and I get old as one.


edit 0.01
We go to nose the evening rabbit; shadowed, though by scent alive.
She looks to me for height and vision, I tilt the sun from ageing eyes
and please her with excited gestures, hoping for a hopping prey.
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, joints still slide when bid “Away!”
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail.
Each chase is one less disappointment, one hope that joy will never fail.

The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind,
so coursing comes with sought for quarry, but these days only brave and blind
will feel the just and gentle jaws, light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench, she puzzles to observe life force
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run fast and free,
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bites of flea.

No matter that each death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams;
for this old girl there are no virtues, only to serve her master’s dreams.
She has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, the day is all her moments summed,
but I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow or too far to make the run
she looks to me and I smile on her…and she and I get old as one.

Tectak
July 2013

Aaaaawwwwww

Extra foot on S1L6.

also "bites of flea"?

"Hi - A I can't find the bold. Sorry B I like this poem but am worried that some of the lines are there to rhyme rather than be part of the essential fabric of the poem. The effect is sometimes bathos or confusion, which is sad because it's a good subject. In fact, I think the central image of the old dog trying to play with sick, dying rabbit is very strong. As is the link between you two and your advanced (!) ages. On the other hand, good for you for trying a formal exercise. You haven't not not gotten away with it."

Michael

We go to nose the evening rabbit; shadowed, but by scent alive.
She looks to me for height hence vision; I tilt the sun from ageing eyes "'height - hence vision' Still slightly awkward"
and please her with exciting gestures, hoping for a hopping prey.
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, legs still run when bid “Away!”
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail. "What is the subject of this sentence? Legs? Dog? If legs, legs can't really race the wind behind sthing."
Each chase is one less disappointment, one hope that joy will never fail. "So this doesn't scan: 'Each chase one less disappointment - hope that joy will never fail.' This scans."

The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind, "Consider 'these evening gusts blow'"
so coursing comes with sought for quarry; these days only brave and blind "'brave'? more like 'weak'"
will feel the just and gentle jaws, light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench, she puzzles to observe life force "Why "by clench... she puzzles?" Dogs don't have remorse and I'm not sure what this word does here apart from rhyme with force.
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run fast and free, "Hm so really she's wondering why it's not moving rather than observing its life force departing. Slightly complicated way of saying something."
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bites of flea.

No blessing that each death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams;
for this old girl there are no virtues, save to serve her master’s dreams. "Not sure what purpose first line serves"
She has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, every day is moments summed.
But I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow or too far to make the run. "This may not quite contradict what came before, but it could be at the beginning and still fit, which isn't usual in a poem. Or in other words, it is a parallel stream of thought to the rabbit and a short poem can't take this."
She looks to me and I smile on her… she and I get old as one.

(06-20-2013, 10:47 AM)milo Wrote:  

(06-14-2013, 06:29 AM)tectak Wrote:  We go to nose the evening rabbit; shadowed, but by scent alive.
She looks to me for height hence vision; I tilt the sun from ageing eyes
and please her with exciting gestures, hoping for a hopping prey.
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, legs still run when bid “Away!”
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail.
Each chase is one less disappointment, one hope that joy will never fail.

The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind,
so coursing comes with sought for quarry; these days only brave and blind
will feel the just and gentle jaws, light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench, she puzzles to observe life force
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run fast and free,
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bites of flea.

No blessing that each death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams;
for this old girl there are no virtues, save to serve her master’s dreams.
She has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, every day is moments summed.
But I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow or too far to make the run.
She looks to me and I smile on her… she and I get old as one.


edit 0.01
We go to nose the evening rabbit; shadowed, though by scent alive.
She looks to me for height and vision, I tilt the sun from ageing eyes
and please her with excited gestures, hoping for a hopping prey.
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, joints still slide when bid “Away!”
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail.
Each chase is one less disappointment, one hope that joy will never fail.

The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind,
so coursing comes with sought for quarry, but these days only brave and blind
will feel the just and gentle jaws, light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench, she puzzles to observe life force
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run fast and free,
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bites of flea.

No matter that each death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams;
for this old girl there are no virtues, only to serve her master’s dreams.
She has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, the day is all her moments summed,
but I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow or too far to make the run
she looks to me and I smile on her…and she and I get old as one.

Tectak
July 2013

Aaaaawwwwww

Extra foot on S1L6.

also "bites of flea"?

Hi milo,
chopped my foot off....thanks.
But what of "bites of flea". It WAS bite of flea but I got abused into bites. You DO know, of course, that myxomytosis is carried by the bite of a flea....of course....stupid remark....apologies.
Best,
tectak

(06-20-2013, 06:51 PM)tectak Wrote:  

(06-20-2013, 10:47 AM)milo Wrote:  

(06-14-2013, 06:29 AM)tectak Wrote:  We go to nose the evening rabbit; shadowed, but by scent alive.
She looks to me for height hence vision; I tilt the sun from ageing eyes
and please her with exciting gestures, hoping for a hopping prey.
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, legs still run when bid “Away!”
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail.
Each chase is one less disappointment, one hope that joy will never fail.

The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind,
so coursing comes with sought for quarry; these days only brave and blind
will feel the just and gentle jaws, light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench, she puzzles to observe life force
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run fast and free,
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bites of flea.

No blessing that each death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams;
for this old girl there are no virtues, save to serve her master’s dreams.
She has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, every day is moments summed.
But I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow or too far to make the run.
She looks to me and I smile on her… she and I get old as one.


edit 0.01
We go to nose the evening rabbit; shadowed, though by scent alive.
She looks to me for height and vision, I tilt the sun from ageing eyes
and please her with excited gestures, hoping for a hopping prey.
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, joints still slide when bid “Away!”
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail.
Each chase is one less disappointment, one hope that joy will never fail.

The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind,
so coursing comes with sought for quarry, but these days only brave and blind
will feel the just and gentle jaws, light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench, she puzzles to observe life force
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run fast and free,
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bites of flea.

No matter that each death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams;
for this old girl there are no virtues, only to serve her master’s dreams.
She has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, the day is all her moments summed,
but I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow or too far to make the run
she looks to me and I smile on her…and she and I get old as one.

Tectak
July 2013

Aaaaawwwwww

Extra foot on S1L6.

also "bites of flea"?

Hi milo,
chopped my foot off....thanks.
But what of "bites of flea". It WAS bite of flea but I got abused into bites

they are flea bites, bites of flea sounds rediculous. You know this already.

(06-20-2013, 06:52 PM)milo Wrote:  

(06-20-2013, 06:51 PM)tectak Wrote:  

(06-20-2013, 10:47 AM)milo Wrote:  Extra foot on S1L6.

also "bites of flea"?

Hi milo,
chopped my foot off....thanks.
But what of "bites of flea". It WAS bite of flea but I got abused into bites

they are flea bites, bites of flea sounds rediculous. You know this already.

Not as ridiculous as rediculous....and any way it doesn't rhyme
You are still right, though!
Best,
tectak

(06-20-2013, 07:37 PM)tectak Wrote:  

(06-20-2013, 06:52 PM)milo Wrote:  

(06-20-2013, 06:51 PM)tectak Wrote:  Hi milo,
chopped my foot off....thanks.
But what of "bites of flea". It WAS bite of flea but I got abused into bites

they are flea bites, bites of flea sounds rediculous. You know this already.

Not as ridiculous as rediculous....and any way it doesn't rhyme
You are still right, though!
Best,
tectak

it can rhyme if you enjamb it. Of course that does cause another problem . . .