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Threads: 48
Joined: Nov 2012
Edit two (thank you Billy)
Go gentle into the yield.
A leaf in still waters,
I quiet myself.
Eyes and shoulders averted,
an open frame to softness.
I set the inner steel aside and wait.
The filly, a taut string of uncertainty,
whickers as her scapegoat mate leaves.
Untouched, now isolated, flight or fight fills her.
An upturned bucket hides a snake,
shadows lurks behind her.
The least worst corner chosen,
to watch from a distanced spot.
I move,
she moves.
Small flickers of motion
become an avalanche of information.
Subtle undercurrents
of connections swirl,
momentarily held in deep pools
of newly created understanding.
Deep to deep, the call is repeated.
Well worn reflections.
We move in waves;
ripples that quicken and bring to birth
a whispered invitation.
In measured, mirrored steps,
we dance together.
I stop,
shoulder dropped, eyes soft
to ask her a question.
The offered step is taken,
the un-haltered horse turns.
A bond, forged by that first touch,
is nuzzled and held in fragile trust.
The waters of Hippocrene
will carry this lifeless leaf
beyond the pride of the fall.
There I will dance with gentle strength,
as I whisper my reply.
Done a large edit on this one (My thanks to True and mungoman for original comments)
New title and have posted it here as this was where the original was posted, but quite happy to invite any level of crit.
From my read I am least happy with St 2...in fact thinking I could happily loose the whole stanza...would this confuse the read without being given this background info?
Edit one
Go gentle into the yield.
Like a leaf in still waters,
I quiet myself.
Eyes and shoulders averted,
an open frame to softness.
The inner steel is set aside as I wait.
The filly, a taut string of uncertainty,
whickers as her scapegoat mate leaves.
Untouched, now isolated, flight or fight fills her.
An upturned bucket hides a snake,
something lurks in the shadows.
The least worst corner chosen,
to watch from a distanced spot.
I move, she moves.
Small flickers of motion
become an avalanche of information.
Subtle undercurrents
of connection swirl,
momentarily held in deep pools
of newly created understanding.
Deep to deep, the call is repeated.
Well worn reflections.
We move in waves;
ripples that quicken and bring to birth
a whispered invitation.
In measured, mirrored steps,
we dance together.
I stop,
shoulder dropped, eyes soft
to ask her a question.
The offered step is taken,
the un-haltered horse turns.
A bond, forged by that first touch,
is nuzzled and held in fragile trust.
The waters of Hippocrene
will carry this lifeless leaf
beyond the pride of the fall,
to distant shores where I can let go,
breach these distances
and dance with gentle strength,
as I whisper my reply.
The Muses sang on mount Helicon
but a richer fountain of inspiration
sprang up and melted the mountain.
Graceful strength flowed
from within the hoof stuck sacred mount.
Once released, the flood gushed down the slopes
in a joyous overflow, where it danced
as glimmers of hope in puddled cups.
Creativity, mounted on wings of unbridled dreams,
swam the great divide from heart to mind
and filled the clay pots with poetry.
Like a leaf in still waters,
I quiet myself.
The inner steel is set aside as I wait
in softness, yielded to the need to be joined.
The smallest flicker of motion
becomes an avalanche
of information that moves in waves;
ripples that quicken and bring to birth
the whispered invitation.
The offered step is taken,
the un-haltered horse turns.
Subtle undercurrents
of connection swirl,
momentarily held
in deep pool reflections,
that are measured in mirrored steps.
Breath mingles, held by fragile trust,
a bond forged by that first touch.
The waters of Hippocrene
will carry this lifeless leaf
beyond the pride of the fall,
to distant shores where I can let go
and dance with gentle strength
as I whisper my reply.
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Joined: Nov 2013
(11-16-2013, 07:59 PM)cidermaid Wrote: The Muses sang on mount Helicon
but a richer fountain of inspiration
sprang up and melted the mountain.
Graceful strength flowed
from within the hoof stuck sacred mount.
Once released, the flood gushed down the slopes
in a joyous overflow, where it danced
as glimmers of hope in puddled cups.
Creativity, mounted on wings of unbridled dreams,
swam the great divide from heart to mind
and filled the clay pots with poetry.
Like a leaf in still waters,
I quiet myself.
The inner steel is set aside as I wait
in softness, yielded to the need to be joined.
The smallest flicker of motion
becomes an avalanche
of information that moves in waves;
ripples that quicken and bring to birth
the whispered invitation.
The offered step is taken,
the un-haltered horse turns.
Subtle undercurrents
of connection swirl,
momentarily held
in deep pool reflections,
that are measured in mirrored steps.
Breath mingles, held by fragile trust,
a bond forged by that first touch.
The waters of Hippocrene
will carry this lifeless leaf
beyond the pride of the fall,
to distant shores where I can let go
and dance with gentle strength
as I whisper my reply.
I suppose I should start off by telling you that I like it. I really do. Although the first paragraph could probably be lightly edited (by yourself) at a later date because it's the weakest part in my opinion. The rest of it however Is really good.
It's vividly imagined and leaves room for just enough interpretation to make it exciting.
The end was beautiful, the perfect whispering finale, a reversed crescendo of understated beauty.
Bravo.
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Threads: 48
Joined: Nov 2012
Thank you for taking the time to read and comment on this one Mungo.
I will have a think about what I might do in the first stanza.
Cheers AJ.
Posts: 378
Threads: 8
Joined: Mar 2013
(11-16-2013, 07:59 PM)cidermaid Wrote: The Muses sang on mount Helicon
but a richer fountain of inspiration
sprang up and melted the mountain.
It's hard to picture "inspiration" springing up to melt a mountain. This stands out, because the rest of your images, whether they involve abstractions or not, are much stronger.
Graceful strength flowed
from within the hoof stuck sacred mount.
Once released, the flood gushed down the slopes
in a joyous overflow, where it danced
as glimmers of hope in puddled cups.
Creativity, mounted on wings of unbridled dreams,
swam the great divide from heart to mind
and filled the clay pots with poetry. The sonics in this line would be much stronger if you omit "the". Don't take my word for it. Try it for yourself. Also, the article isn't needed anyway, and makes me wonder, "which clay pots?"
Like a leaf in still waters,
I quiet myself. I like this image, and the meditation. A nice transition to set the mood for the strophe. I mean I really like it. I'm going to use it.(Not steal it for a poem, zen.)
The inner steel is set aside as I wait
in softness, yielded to the need to be joined.
The smallest flicker of motion
becomes an avalanche
of information that moves in waves;
ripples that quicken and bring to birth
the whispered invitation.
here you have an avalanche of information that turns into a (presumably) tsunami-like wave. It kinda of works actually, in a transmutable energy audio tape meditation type of way. l like it, but it could perhaps be simplified a bit.
The offered step is taken,
the un-haltered horse turns. Nice line. But again this horse was a leaf right? Well, that was just a simile...until...
Subtle undercurrents
of connection swirl,
momentarily held
in deep pool reflections,
that are measured in mirrored steps.
Breath mingles, held by fragile trust,
a bond forged by that first touch.
The waters of Hippocrene
will carry this lifeless leaf ...here...
beyond the pride of the fall,
to distant shores where I can let go
and dance with gentle strength
as I whisper my reply.
A nice meditation. I like the myth, and the poem.
The leaf and the horse took me for a bit of a ride though, are there two figures? I wondered for bit if the leaf was replying to the horse, the poet to Pegasus, so to speak, which I think is an excellent idea. If so it could be perhaps clarified a bit, and wouldn't the horse be the bringer of the information? And maybe work on your first two lines a bit.
I enjoyed this, thanks for posting.
Posts: 522
Threads: 48
Joined: Nov 2012
Hi True,
Thanks for your time and feedback on this one.
A bit of a long reply going on here. I would really appreciate your thoughts or any further comments if you have the time (or the will power to look through these notes) – Cheers AJ
I am debating if I want / need to put out some spoiler notes on this one, because I have actually written something that is important to me as the writer to maintain my story / image in…but I do really want to improve and make this the best poem I can. I think the issue of the reason behind the motivation to write a poem is an interesting one – have I written because I love life, an in particular a specific aspect of life, or am I writing because I love poetry. Obviously there would hopefully be aspects of both, but sometimes, I think we write with a very individual objective in mind or even just for ourselves. I think this poem is one of those for me. (Perhaps this would make a good discussion).
So in this poem I am trying to convey the idea that working with horses is a spiritual and highly inspirational part of my life that in some way is intrinsically linked to who I am and why I write poetry. In other words this one is close to the truth about what makes me tick !
In the not so dim past I ran a horse stud and bred and then broke in said young horses to ride. I used a very gentle way to work with them which has been given various names, horse whispering, natural horsemanship. Basically it is about using the horses’ body language and natural instincts to communicate what you want in a non violent way.
So to specifically answer your points (not that I don’t agree with many of your comments, but because it is so specific and personal I want to keep a tighter control on this one).
Almost anything in stanza one is up for grabs. I was just trying to write an interesting intro to my main subject and to introduce the ideas I mention above. The clay pots = Man, as in created by God and this in turn is meant as a continuation from the puddled cups = 2 images for consideration. On the potters wheel - wet clay and also was intended as a connection from the myth into present day. The inspiration of the flow from the nine muses and pegasus translated into man. The second idea is the practice of making a pond by puddling clay. The river of higher inspiration becoming changed from the intended glory by being collected in the works of inferior man. Probably too much to be communicated in a few lines  but this was my thought process  .
In the next two stanza's I am the leaf (caught in an eddy from the inspirational flow - now in a puddled cup or clay pot)
Then there is a second player / part which is a young horse - flighty and suffering a tumult of emotions and potential resposes as it is put into a new situation. (An avalanch of body language signals - hard to read and control).
The last stanza is meant to be where the two worlds of spirituality and myth touch and dance in one flow unhindered (like the waters in the myth)
The horse is backed to ride and carries the leaf. But this can only be done by letting go of all the man made ideas and plugging back into something pure and from the spiritual side of life.
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(11-26-2013, 05:33 PM)cidermaid Wrote: Hi True,
Thanks for your time and feedback on this one.
A bit of a long reply going on here. I would really appreciate your thoughts or any further comments if you have the time (or the will power to look through these notes) – Cheers AJ
I am debating if I want / need to put out some spoiler notes on this one, because I have actually written something that is important to me as the writer to maintain my story / image in…but I do really want to improve and make this the best poem I can. I think the issue of the reason behind the motivation to write a poem is an interesting one – have I written because I love life, an in particular a specific aspect of life, or am I writing because I love poetry. Obviously there would hopefully be aspects of both, but sometimes, I think we write with a very individual objective in mind or even just for ourselves. I think this poem is one of those for me. (Perhaps this would make a good discussion).
So in this poem I am trying to convey the idea that working with horses is a spiritual and highly inspirational part of my life that in some way is intrinsically linked to who I am and why I write poetry. In other words this one is close to the truth about what makes me tick !
In the not so dim past I ran a horse stud and bred and then broke in said young horses to ride. I used a very gentle way to work with them which has been given various names, horse whispering, natural horsemanship. Basically it is about using the horses’ body language and natural instincts to communicate what you want in a non violent way.
So to specifically answer your points (not that I don’t agree with many of your comments, but because it is so specific and personal I want to keep a tighter control on this one).
Almost anything in stanza one is up for grabs. I was just trying to write an interesting intro to my main subject and to introduce the ideas I mention above. The clay pots = Man, as in created by God and this in turn is meant as a continuation from the puddled cups = 2 images for consideration. On the potters wheel - wet clay and also was intended as a connection from the myth into present day. The inspiration of the flow from the nine muses and pegasus translated into man. The second idea is the practice of making a pond by puddling clay. The river of higher inspiration becoming changed from the intended glory by being collected in the works of inferior man. Probably too much to be communicated in a few lines but this was my thought process .
In the next two stanza's I am the leaf (caught in an eddy from the inspirational flow - now in a puddled cup or clay pot)
Then there is a second player / part which is a young horse - flighty and suffering a tumult of emotions and potential resposes as it is put into a new situation. (An avalanch of body language signals - hard to read and control).
The last stanza is meant to be where the two worlds of spirituality and myth touch and dance in one flow unhindered (like the waters in the myth)
The horse is backed to ride and carries the leaf. But this can only be done by letting go of all the man made ideas and plugging back into something pure and from the spiritual side of life.
Well then, since you're using psychological tricks like questioning my will power, I guess I have no choice!
I'm only kidding, and not to worry, poems make excellent conversation peices, and I'm happy to help.
I read this as more of an invocation of the muse and/or a prayer (for lack of a better word) to Pegasus, a source of poetic inspiration, by way of hippocrene.
With all of the references to Helicon, Hippocrene, and muses, all that I get from the "horse" is the myth, that is to say, Pegasus. It never occurred to me that there is may be a "real" horse.
That is not to belittle your train of thought at all, it is just what I get from the poem.
TBH I think the sentiments you have expressed in your reply regarding the care of horses and the various profundities that you've associated with /that/ relationship are very interesting; and may do well in producing a much simpler poem, without the mythe, and grounded in reality. It seems to me that you have a gold mine of life experience to draw from, and I'm interested in hearing about it. If you do choose to write this other poem I would be happy to help you with it, in whichever forum you may choose to post it.
I'm afraid your hopes for S1 may be far too ambitious for this poem. I suspected that the clay pots and the cups may be connected, but dismissed it because the connection is unclear, and pots are not the same thing as cups. Epithets rarely get us the effects we want them to. I struggle with the same thing. It would be nice to just be able to just call something something else that sounds better, but without anything literal to associate with them, and a clear connection between the two, metaphors and symbols tend to fizzle out fairly quickly.
Considering S1 is "up for grabs", and not nearly as important to you or the poem as the rest, consider cutting S1 altogether. "Like a leaf in still waters.." is a good opening line.
Also consider a new title. (The poem is not about singing muses, and the heart of the poem is in the horse and rider.)
Another thing, maybe drop the "ed" in "yielded". The verb is stronger.
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Hi True
thanks for your time and excellent advise and comments.
Basically - yeh I think you are right I should bench the current effort and prune my thought process back to the roots of what I wanted to write.
I will post any re-writes in this thread when i do any work on it.
Appreciate the encouragment and the offer of future help AJ.
Posts: 522
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Joined: Nov 2012
Put new edit up on this one
All crit at all levels welcome.
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high AJ
come to this one late so i'll just reply to the edit.
you capture the scene well. i'd keep the 2nd as it does add to the poem by showing the skittishness of the beast. i think you could trim some parts down and lose an odd line or two but not too many. i enjoyed what you have so far. thanks for the read
(11-16-2013, 07:59 PM)cidermaid Wrote: Done a large edit on this one (My thanks to True and mungoman for original comments)
New title and have posted it here as this was where the original was posted, but quite happy to invite any level of crit.
From my read I am least happy with St 2...in fact thinking I could happily loose the whole stanza...would this confuse the read without being given this background info? i think a few conjunction etc can be edited out in order to hone the poem even more.
Edit one
Go gentle into the yield. i have no idea why but the title grabs me, i'm happy to find the poem isn't sunday-schoolish as i thought it would be from the title.
Like a leaf in still waters, why use the simile, why not be an outright metaphor and remove [like]?
I quiet myself.
Eyes and shoulders averted,
an open frame to softness.
The inner steel is set aside as I wait. is [is] needed?
The filly, a taut string of uncertainty,
whickers as her scapegoat mate leaves.
Untouched, now isolated, flight or fight fills her.
An upturned bucket hides a snake,
something lurks in the shadows.
The least worst corner chosen,
to watch from a distanced spot.
I move, she moves. a suggestion would be to give these two clauses their own lines.
Small flickers of motion i like this image and see the horses withers twitching
become an avalanche of information. is [become] needed?
Subtle undercurrents
of connection swirl, i keep wanting to read it as connections, probably just me
momentarily held in deep pools
of newly created understanding.
Deep to deep, the call is repeated.
Well worn reflections. i like the sound of the wubble-ewes
We move in waves;
ripples that quicken and bring to birth
a whispered invitation.
In measured, mirrored steps,
we dance together.
I stop,
shoulder dropped, eyes soft just the one shoulder dropped?
to ask her a question.
The offered step is taken,
the un-haltered horse turns.
A bond, forged by that first touch,
is nuzzled and held in fragile trust.
The waters of Hippocrene clever use of hippocrene, it works in well with the horse content
will carry this lifeless leaf
beyond the pride of the fall, for me this is where the poem ends. the last three lines feel a little ott
to distant shores where I can let go,
breach these distances
and dance with gentle strength,
as I whisper my reply.
The Muses sang on mount Helicon
but a richer fountain of inspiration
sprang up and melted the mountain.
Graceful strength flowed
from within the hoof stuck sacred mount.
Once released, the flood gushed down the slopes
in a joyous overflow, where it danced
as glimmers of hope in puddled cups.
Creativity, mounted on wings of unbridled dreams,
swam the great divide from heart to mind
and filled the clay pots with poetry.
Like a leaf in still waters,
I quiet myself.
The inner steel is set aside as I wait
in softness, yielded to the need to be joined.
The smallest flicker of motion
becomes an avalanche
of information that moves in waves;
ripples that quicken and bring to birth
the whispered invitation.
The offered step is taken,
the un-haltered horse turns.
Subtle undercurrents
of connection swirl,
momentarily held
in deep pool reflections,
that are measured in mirrored steps.
Breath mingles, held by fragile trust,
a bond forged by that first touch.
The waters of Hippocrene
will carry this lifeless leaf
beyond the pride of the fall,
to distant shores where I can let go
and dance with gentle strength
as I whisper my reply.
Posts: 522
Threads: 48
Joined: Nov 2012
Thanks for the comments Billy. i like and agree with most of your suggestions.
To answer your question on the shoulder - yes just one shouder. it is the invitation / question. part of the process. You change the body language to show your side profile which is an opener to draw near - forward facing is aggressive / go away I am punishing you / you don't belong here. make the eyes go soft (human eyes are preditory so turn them down & to the side to be non aggressive) The one shoulder drop is very specific in horse talk it is saying:- be my friend / draw near and I will allow you into my herd and under my protection. There are lots of nauances within these moves.
Sorry too much information I know...but when i said I only speak one language that was not really true. I speak horse.
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