Here we are, I am prepared for the worst. This is one in a long series of tales I am writing centered on the same characters. This has already been rewritten once last year to adhere to the 9 syllable rule I made for myself, so as a result some rhymes may seem forced. I have 7 and a half more of these...
=============

Embarked on a quest, Sorg travels long
In search of a man of great evil
Murder, pillage; doer of things wrong
Hide he cannot from deeds most awful.

Joethryn, the self-proclaimed Bandit King
Is said to be among the badlands.
Sorg seeks to deliver death’s cold sting
Swiftly executed by his hands.

Sorg’s travels led him to a dry place
Of arid desert and massive buttes.
The earth was barren, cracked at the base,
Unable to sustain any fruits.

The cliffs that fill this forsaken land
Were unique in form and in structure.
Steep and vertical, these mountains spanned
Throughout the land devoid of moisture.

Like towers generously scattered,
Each resembling a colossal stake;
Columns of stone; the ground was tattered.
The land was wretched, make no mistake.

One tower sits high above its peers
Such that the sky, it graces a kiss.
It’s rumored to be hollowed in tiers,
Tis called The Paliform Precipice.

Reaching the colossal obelisk,
He enters the cavernous crevice
Into a vestibule, wise to the risk;
The room is empty, he does notice.

Ever wary he reaches a well;
Parched from the trek he filled his canteen.
Thirst now quenched he approached a stairwell
Ascending further as he was keen.

A round hallway with many a cell
Filled with prisoners; man, woman, child.
Seemingly left to forever dwell,
Their freedom has been wrongly defiled.

Sorg knew that the people would perish
If left all alone to the desert.
While leaving them may seem nightmarish
The prisoners largely were inert.

“I shan’t leave you to the hot desert,
You have my word I’ll return for thee,”
Spake Sorg with compassion for the hurt.
Sorrowful, he climbs up to tier three.

This was a travesty Sorg was sure;
He proceeds to ascend the tower.
Engaging a foe with rage most pure,
Sorg runs him through with mighty power.

Rending all those who stand in his way
He tears them to pieces, limb by limb.
Dismembering all who join the fray,
Leaving some to bleed as things go dim.

Feuding in a frenzy of swordplay,
Hacking his enemies asunder;
Their bodies present a grim display
Until Sorg realizes his blunder.

“Death and bloodshed; is this my recourse?
Evil they are, but must I follow?”
Ponders Sorg, being filled with remorse.
Sheathing his sword he succumbs to his foe.

Shackled and taken to the spire’s peak;
Thrown to the feet of Joethryn the king.
“Things for you do appear rather bleak,”
Joethryn uttered, leisurely pacing.

“You slaughtered my men on a mere spree
Yet you surrender here, at my feet?
Clearly my men were no match for thee,
So why are you here? Why do we meet?”

Sorg lifts his head, eyes meeting Joethryn’s
And said “many men have died this day,
You too shall be punished for your sins.
Release the slaves or you I shall slay.”

Quite taken aback, Joethryn replies
“You've done all this for many a slave?
Surely you’re here for more than their cries”
Sorg exclaims “To take your life, you knave!”

At this Joethryn dismisses his men,
Unshackles Sorg and hands him a sword.
“You dare arm me? 'Twill be your chagrin.”
Bewildered, unto Joethryn, Sorg roared.

“I don’t lack honor.” Asserts Joethryn
As he draws his weapon and takes stance.
Sorg rises to his feet, from his shin.
Warring, their swords aggressively dance.

“Prisoner, I am too.” Joethryn states.
Battle raging, Joethryn continues,
“There’s no order with thieves, lawless mates.
A king among thieves is quite the ruse.”

Swords still clashing, Joethryn told a tale:
“As a lad I was easily swayed
Following the bandits and their trail,
Not turning back, as I was afraid.

Somehow I came to be crowned their king
Despite my distaste for what I’ve done.
I’m as much a prisoner, rotting
in my cell of woe, nowhere to run.

I’d rather be captive,conscience clear
Than be plagued by overwhelming guilt.
Now you’re here to kill me, ‘twould appear.
Should it cease the pain, my blood be spilt.”

As the battle breaks Sorg does inquire
“Is this all you desire from your life?
Would you rather atone the prior?
There is no need to prolong the strife.

Come here I have, to see that you’re slain
But much honor I sense within thee;
And I ponder what peace you might gain
Should you join in my crusade and flee.”

“Flee!?” Joethryn bellowed, “Surely you jest.
King or not, I shall be killed on sight.
Your cause; it’s goal if I might request?”
Joethryn asks, free of malice or sleight.

Sorg replies with ambition and zeal
“The ruin of evil by my hand,
Help the oppressed, is my quest I feel.
If you seek redemption, take my hand.”

Embracing Sorg’s hand with gratitude
Joethryn proposes freeing the slaves.
A plan between the two starts to brew
To save injured slaves from early graves.

Hi, Blake, welcome. Thanks for starting with jumping in with feedback on other people's poems.

Even though I love a good story, I keep getting only half through here. The two issues I have off the bat are:

You've got a lot of yoda speak going on, I know, I've done it. You can read here for some examples:
Yoda Speak

The other problem is I think the 9 syllable count is tying your hands. I am a counter myself and love to hang a poem on the skeleton that it can provide, but I think you are sticking to it at the expense of meter. In what I think of as a saga poem, the meter can pull me through it, and yours is not working in many spots.

You can make something of this, but I think you need to work on those aspects first.

I'm going to keep working at getting through it, just wanted to let you know the problems I'm having as a reader.

Again, Welcome.

(01-15-2014, 01:12 AM)Blake Wrote:  Here we are, I am prepared for the worst. This is one in a long series of tales I am writing centered on the same characters. This has already been rewritten once last year to adhere to the 9 syllable rule I made for myself, so as a result some rhymes may seem forced. I have 7 and a half more of these...
=============

Embarked on a quest, Sorg travels long
In search of a man of great evil
Murder, pillage; doer of things wrong
Hide he cannot from deeds most awful.

Joethryn, the self-proclaimed Bandit King
Is said to be among the badlands.
Sorg seeks to deliver death’s cold sting
Swiftly executed by his hands.

Sorg’s travels led him to a dry place
Of arid desert and massive buttes.
The earth was barren, cracked at the base,
Unable to sustain any fruits.

The cliffs that fill this forsaken land
Were unique in form and in structure.
Steep and vertical, these mountains spanned
Throughout the land devoid of moisture.

Like towers generously scattered,
Each resembling a colossal stake;
Columns of stone; the ground was tattered.
The land was wretched, make no mistake.

One tower sits high above its peers
Such that the sky, it graces a kiss.
It’s rumored to be hollowed in tiers,
Tis called The Paliform Precipice.

Reaching the colossal obelisk,
He enters the cavernous crevice
Into a vestibule, wise to the risk;
The room is empty, he does notice.

Ever wary he reaches a well;
Parched from the trek he filled his canteen.
Thirst now quenched he approached a stairwell
Ascending further as he was keen.

A round hallway with many a cell
Filled with prisoners; man, woman, child.
Seemingly left to forever dwell,
Their freedom has been wrongly defiled.

Sorg knew that the people would perish
If left all alone to the desert.
While leaving them may seem nightmarish
The prisoners largely were inert.

“I shan’t leave you to the hot desert,
You have my word I’ll return for thee,”
Spake Sorg with compassion for the hurt.
Sorrowful, he climbs up to tier three.

This was a travesty Sorg was sure;
He proceeds to ascend the tower.
Engaging a foe with rage most pure,
Sorg runs him through with mighty power.

Rending all those who stand in his way
He tears them to pieces, limb by limb.
Dismembering all who join the fray,
Leaving some to bleed as things go dim.

Feuding in a frenzy of swordplay,
Hacking his enemies asunder;
Their bodies present a grim display
Until Sorg realizes his blunder.

“Death and bloodshed; is this my recourse?
Evil they are, but must I follow?”
Ponders Sorg, being filled with remorse.
Sheathing his sword he succumbs to his foe.

Shackled and taken to the spire’s peak;
Thrown to the feet of Joethryn the king.
“Things for you do appear rather bleak,”
Joethryn uttered, leisurely pacing.

“You slaughtered my men on a mere spree
Yet you surrender here, at my feet?
Clearly my men were no match for thee,
So why are you here? Why do we meet?”

Sorg lifts his head, eyes meeting Joethryn’s
And said “many men have died this day,
You too shall be punished for your sins.
Release the slaves or you I shall slay.”

Quite taken aback, Joethryn replies
“You've done all this for many a slave?
Surely you’re here for more than their cries”
Sorg exclaims “To take your life, you knave!”

At this Joethryn dismisses his men,
Unshackles Sorg and hands him a sword.
“You dare arm me? 'Twill be your chagrin.”
Bewildered, unto Joethryn, Sorg roared.

“I don’t lack honor.” Asserts Joethryn
As he draws his weapon and takes stance.
Sorg rises to his feet, from his shin.
Warring, their swords aggressively dance.

“Prisoner, I am too.” Joethryn states.
Battle raging, Joethryn continues,
“There’s no order with thieves, lawless mates.
A king among thieves is quite the ruse.”

Swords still clashing, Joethryn told a tale:
“As a lad I was easily swayed
Following the bandits and their trail,
Not turning back, as I was afraid.

Somehow I came to be crowned their king
Despite my distaste for what I’ve done.
I’m as much a prisoner, rotting
in my cell of woe, nowhere to run.

I’d rather be captive,conscience clear
Than be plagued by overwhelming guilt.
Now you’re here to kill me, ‘twould appear.
Should it cease the pain, my blood be spilt.”

As the battle breaks Sorg does inquire
“Is this all you desire from your life?
Would you rather atone the prior?
There is no need to prolong the strife.

Come here I have, to see that you’re slain
But much honor I sense within thee;
And I ponder what peace you might gain
Should you join in my crusade and flee.”

“Flee!?” Joethryn bellowed, “Surely you jest.
King or not, I shall be killed on sight.
Your cause; it’s goal if I might request?”
Joethryn asks, free of malice or sleight.

Sorg replies with ambition and zeal
“The ruin of evil by my hand,
Help the oppressed, is my quest I feel.
If you seek redemption, take my hand.”

Embracing Sorg’s hand with gratitude
Joethryn proposes freeing the slaves.
A plan between the two starts to brew
To save injured slaves from early graves.

Joethryn proposes freeing the slaves.
A plan between the two starts to brew
To save injured slaves from early graves.

That sounds like something from a trailer for a tv show.

Next week on an all new episode of The Paliform Precipice:
Joethryn proposes freeing the slaves.
A plan between the two starts to brew

doer of things wrong
Hide he cannot from deeds most awful

Sorg seeks to deliver death’s cold sting
Swiftly executed by his hands.

While leaving them may seem nightmarish
The prisoners largely were inert.

Into a vestibule, wise to the risk;
The room is empty, he does notice.


Figure out how to say things more naturally. Not adding details to fill the lines and rhymes, because when you do you have lots of filler and awkward sounding things that distract from the story and make the poem unreadable. You have to flesh out the story without filler.

Simply counting syllables leaves the lines feeling stiff and mechanical.

(01-15-2014, 06:58 AM)ellajam Wrote:  Hi, Blake, welcome. Thanks for starting with jumping in with feedback on other people's poems.

Even though I love a good story, I keep getting only half through here. The two issues I have off the bat are:

You've got a lot of yoda speak going on, I know, I've done it. You can read here for some examples:
Yoda Speak

The other problem is I think the 9 syllable count is tying your hands. I am a counter myself and love to hang a poem on the skeleton that it can provide, but I think you are sticking to it at the expense of meter. In what I think of as a saga poem, the meter can pull me through it, and yours is not working in many spots.

You can make something of this, but I think you need to work on those aspects first.

I'm going to keep working at getting through it, just wanted to let you know the problems I'm having as a reader.

Again, Welcome.

Thanks, I've always used inversion (yoda speak) pretty heavily, as I enjoy the challenge that strictly adhering to a rhyme/rhythm brings.
I can agree that as a result some of the lines are a bit dodgy and ill-flowing. I've always been quite fascinated with word inversion and how a sentence can at first glance look totally wacky, but then when reading it, sense is made of it.

hehe you should have seen one of my earlier renditions

I originally wrote it with no syllable constraint and rewrote it to fit 9. So another rewrite could be in order

---

(01-15-2014, 06:58 AM)ellajam Wrote:  Yoda Speak

Hmm, seems I dont yet have access to read that post. Maybe later on I can read it.

(01-15-2014, 07:05 AM)rowens Wrote:  Joethryn proposes freeing the slaves.
A plan between the two starts to brew
To save injured slaves from early graves.

That sounds like something from a trailer for a tv show.

Next week on an all new episode of The Paliform Precipice:
Joethryn proposes freeing the slaves.
A plan between the two starts to brew


doer of things wrong
Hide he cannot from deeds most awful

Sorg seeks to deliver death’s cold sting
Swiftly executed by his hands.

While leaving them may seem nightmarish
The prisoners largely were inert.

Into a vestibule, wise to the risk;
The room is empty, he does notice.


Figure out how to say things more naturally. Not adding details to fill the lines and rhymes, because when you do you have lots of filler and awkward sounding things that distract from the story and make the poem unreadable. You have to flesh out the story without filler.

Simply counting syllables leaves the lines feeling stiff and mechanical.

Thats true about the TV show thing, the detail part is something I will have to work on as I myself love reading juicy and vivid imagery (probably inspired from the REH works I have read). Now the first poem in this saga I wrote was written in a similar style but without as strict syllable counting.

Instead each stanza had its own metre. Still not sure which I like best. I would like to keep some form of metric, as rhythm is important to me, but I have to figure out what works best. I'll have to work on this a bit and see how I can make it more fluid.

And most of my poems are about this length

That Yoda thing is in the Pig's Arse.

Hi Blake

I was able to make it all the way though this, so that wasn't my issue (although I often can't get through long poems). What was off putting for me was how little details were mentioned for no reason other than syllables (ex: Sorg rises to his feet, from his shin.) and then how big things were just swept over lightly at times (ex: Warring, their swords aggressively dance). Because of that sometimes I'd read a few stanzas and then realize I had no idea what I just read, and have to go back.

Also, is all the olde-speake really needed? Shan't and 'twould and all that? Makes it harder on the reader. I get that it's set in the times of kings etc, but it seems like it's trying too hard.

I agree with the other comments about the 9-syllable thing, and how the meter is often just weird. It's distracting.

Kudos for attempting something so long (you seriously have 7 more of these? Wow)! And most of the reason I made it to the end is because I wanted to know what happened, so that's a big point in its favor.

-justcloudy

---

Just a thought-- might be interesting to see the other version of this one.

(01-15-2014, 07:33 AM)justcloudy Wrote:  And most of the reason I made it to the end is because I wanted to know what happened, so that's a big point in its favor.

---

Just a thought-- might be interesting to see the other version of this one.

Thanks, its good to know the story aspect was compelling. I will have to check how far back my google drive revisions go to see if I still have the old one.

How to join the Sewer and Pig's Arse

If you like the word inversion that's your choice, your poem. If you'd like to read some unforced poems in strict forms, try looking through the practice threads for a start, it's got the rules for each form and some pretty amazing and beautifully readable examples by members.

(01-15-2014, 07:59 AM)ellajam Wrote:  How to join the Sewer and Pig's Arse

If you like the word inversion that's your choice, your poem. If you'd like to read some unforced poems in strict forms, try looking through the practice threads for a start, it's got the rules for each form and some pretty amazing and beautifully readable examples by members.

Thanks I will check that out. And while I do enjoy inversion, I also enjoy my works being readable. So I will try to make some revisions. Revising a long poem is daunting so might take me a bit. Depends how whether or not the baby sleeps.

Hi blake,

metrically speaking, most English feet, especially the more common, natural sounding, and comprehensible ones, generally come in two's. Why on earth would you attempt a long epic with nine-syllable lines? If you are not yet able to master the technicalities of iambic pentameter, why not at least try it first with ten syllables? At least from there you shouldn't be too far from serviceable lines, and verse-able meter.

As is stands it is far too contorted and inaccessible to provide any enjoyment to the reader, even on the surface, just skimming it makes me want to cringe.

Try one more syllable per line, with sensible syntax; and don't worry about rhyming every stanza, just rhyme the ones that fall naturally into place; then bring the readable version back and post it for further review, and to get it to the next step.

This one is going to require several drafts.

I think before I work on edits to this I will try to get a firm grasp on iambic pentameter, or even dactylic hexameter if I dare. Then I will try to slowly convert it and see how that goes. I dont see much point in posting any of my other 7 of these until this one gets reworked considering it may be a wall of text to many.

Its funny when I went through school we studied some of this stuff and I suppose I was ignorant in that I felt my own form was the only form that mattered. Clearly I was wrong. Although I am still a rhyme/rhythm purist but I suppose that can still be worked into a proper form. I'm looking forward to rewriting this and eventually sharing the others.

(01-15-2014, 07:13 AM)Blake Wrote:  Hmm, seems I dont yet have access to read that post. Maybe later on I can read it.

all members can see it, you have to just join that forum and the sewer through your user CP :J:

look in group membership on the left and click on it