Evolution

[tectak]

I watched a thousand men a'marching up a green and gentle hill.
In line they followed one another, silently with single will.
To his chest the leader clutched an orb of silver, blue and brown;
and from his eyes  black smoke plumed upwards, from his belly tar poured down.

Upon the summit rain was falling, scalding steam burst from the ground,
when through the foment came a roar and all below froze with the sound.
From fuming smog a hand rose trembling, grasped around the glinting sphere,
and with a lunge the arm flung forward, from the ranks a mighty cheer.

Arching through the swirling vapours, falling, falling through the gloom,
the globe was caught by  grabbing hands as gravity holds tight the moon.
A new man held the prize close to him, struggling to attain the peak
when from his mouth came soot and sparks. He could not cry, he  could not speak.

I watched for what seemed like a lifetime. Again the throw, again the cheer;
the curving toss into the darkness filled me each time with fateful fear.
The hands that held, the struggle skyward, time on time that saving grace;
I could not see a point or purpose...who will win this human race?

tectak(typical when bored)
2015

[Tiger the Lion]

Hi tectak. Feels like a lot sacrificed to rhyme and meter. I'll try to be specific.

I watched a thousand men a'marching up a green and gentle hill."a'marching" is ok, but it does set a tone. Is that the tone you want?
In line they followed one another, silently with single will.
To his chest the leader clutched an orb of silver, blue and brown;inversion
and from his eyes  black smoke plumed upwards, from his belly tar poured down.inversion

Upon the summit rain was falling, scalding steam burst from the ground,
when through the foment came a roar and all below froze with the sound.the wording here is reminiscent of Twas the night before Xmas. Not your fault. Just is.
From fuming smog a hand rose trembling, grasped around the glinting sphere,
and with a lunge the arm flung forward, from the ranks a mighty cheer.some cliche in "mighty cheer"

Arching through the swirling vapours, falling, falling through the gloom,
the globe was caught by  grabbing hands as gravity holds tight the moon.there is a tense problem in this line
A new man held the prize close to him, struggling to attain the peak
when from his mouth came soot and sparks. He could not cry, he  could not speak.Twas the night b4 Xmas again.

I watched for what seemed like a lifetime. Again the throw, again the cheer;
the curving toss into the darkness filled me each time with fateful fear.
The hands that held, the struggle skyward, time on time that saving grace;
I could not see a point or purpose...who will win this human race?

tectak(typical when bored)
2015

Just a few fixable areas where I think the piece is too driven by rhyme and meter concerns.
Hope it helps. Thanks.
Paul 

[tectak]

Hi tectak. Feels like a lot sacrificed to rhyme and meter. I'll try to be specific.

I watched a thousand men a'marching up a green and gentle hill."a'marching" is ok, but it does set a tone. Is that the tone you want?
In line they followed one another, silently with single will.
To his chest the leader clutched an orb of silver, blue and brown;inversion
and from his eyes  black smoke plumed upwards, from his belly tar poured down.inversion

Upon the summit rain was falling, scalding steam burst from the ground,
when through the foment came a roar and all below froze with the sound.the wording here is reminiscent of Twas the night before Xmas. Not your fault. Just is.
From fuming smog a hand rose trembling, grasped around the glinting sphere,
and with a lunge the arm flung forward, from the ranks a mighty cheer.some cliche in "mighty cheer"

Arching through the swirling vapours, falling, falling through the gloom,
the globe was caught by  grabbing hands as gravity holds tight the moon.there is a tense problem in this line
A new man held the prize close to him, struggling to attain the peak
when from his mouth came soot and sparks. He could not cry, he  could not speak.Twas the night b4 Xmas again.

I watched for what seemed like a lifetime. Again the throw, again the cheer;
the curving toss into the darkness filled me each time with fateful fear.
The hands that held, the struggle skyward, time on time that saving grace;
I could not see a point or purpose...who will win this human race?

tectak(typical when bored)
2015

Just a few fixable areas where I think the piece is too driven by rhyme and meter concerns.
Hope it helps. Thanks.
Paul 

Hi tiger,
A fun write, this(inversion). It has been on my list of things to do for a while. All of your points are valid and will be acted on. I just felt that workshopping was getting a little vacuous and needed a filler. Watch this space. Just one thing, I do enjoy the discipline of rhyme and do not find it arduous....usually. If it seems "driven" or of a "concern" then in some sense I have failed. I will look at it again but am open to suggestions.
Best,
tectak

[tectak]

I watched a thousand men a'marching up a green and gentle hill.
In line they followed one another, silently with single will.
The leader clutched  tight to his chest, an orb of silver, blue and brown;
and from his eyes  black smoke plumed upwards, from his belly tar poured down.

Upon the summit rain was falling, scalding steam burst from the ground,
when through the foment came a roar and all below froze with the sound.
From fuming smog a hand rose trembling, grasped around the glinting sphere,
and with a lunge the arm flung forward; from the ranks a rousing cheer.

Arching through the swirling vapours, falling, falling through the gloom,
the globe was caught in grasping hands, as gravity holds tight the moon.
A new man held the prize close to him, struggling to attain the peak
when from his mouth came soot and sparks; he could not cry, he  could not speak.

I watched for what seemed like a lifetime. Again the throw, again the cheer;
the curving toss into the darkness filled me each time with fateful fear.
The hands that held, the struggle skyward, time on time that saving grace;
I could not see a point or purpose...will no one win the human race?

tectak(typical when bored)
2015


Original
I watched a thousand men a'marching up a green and gentle hill.
In line they followed one another, silently with single will.
To his chest the leader clutched an orb of silver, blue and brown;
and from his eyes  black smoke plumed upwards, from his belly tar poured down.

Upon the summit rain was falling, scalding steam burst from the ground,
when through the foment came a roar and all below froze with the sound.
From fuming smog a hand rose trembling, grasped around the glinting sphere,
and with a lunge the arm flung forward, from the ranks a mighty cheer.

Arching through the swirling vapours, falling, falling through the gloom,
the globe was caught by  grabbing hands as gravity holds tight the moon.
A new man held the prize close to him, struggling to attain the peak
when from his mouth came soot and sparks. He could not cry, he  could not speak.

I watched for what seemed like a lifetime. Again the throw, again the cheer;
the curving toss into the darkness filled me each time with fateful fear.
The hands that held, the struggle skyward, time on time that saving grace;
I could not see a point or purpose...who will win this human race?

tectak(typical when bored)
2015

[Mark A Becker]

Hey Tom,

The rhyming is not forced, and thus, it reads quite well.

The occasional anapests do have a way of creating that "marching feeling". That said, that not out of line with the title.

The spondees are prevalent, and add a forcefulness that this piece almost requires.

This one is so close to done that there is not much to pick apart, without being too "nitty".

So, I see what you mean when you say that it's filler...

Very good read,
... Mark

[tectak]

Hey Tom,

The rhyming is not forced, and thus, it reads quite well.

The occasional anapests do have a way of creating that "marching feeling".  That said, that not out of line with the title.

The spondees are prevalent, and add a forcefulness that this piece almost requires.  

This one is so close to done that there is not much to pick apart, without being too "nitty".

So, I see what you mean when you say that it's filler...

Very good read,
... Mark

Hi mark,
thanks for this...I eat all crit even if it tastes nice
A few changes have been made but I feel that I lose impact with the payoff...the rhyme came too easily.
Best,
tectak

[ellajam]

Hi, Tom, a fun read that belies the heavy subject. I'm taking this to describe the industrial age but I may be all wrong. It's a rhyme scheme that made me think of classic adventures but the issue is in fact the heart of the current age so it seemed a bit odd to me. Anyway, some notes below.

I watched a thousand men a'marching up a green and gentle hill. I'd prefer "go marching" to "a'marching", it just seems old fashioned.
In line they followed one another, silently with single will. You might consider "silent with a single will."
To his chest the leader clutched an orb of silver, blue and brown; I don't know the meaning of the colors and google will not help me.
and from his eyes  black smoke plumed upwards, from his belly tar poured down.

Upon the summit rain was falling, scalding steam burst from the ground,
when through the foment came a roar and all below froze with the sound.
From fuming smog a hand rose trembling, grasped around the glinting sphere,
and with a lunge the arm flung forward, from the ranks a mighty cheer.

Arching through the swirling vapours, falling, falling through the gloom, I think you could make better use of the foot than the first falling.
the globe was caught by  grabbing hands as gravity holds tight the moon.
A new man held the prize close to him, struggling to attain the peak In the first half of this line the meter trips me.
when from his mouth came soot and sparks. He could not cry, he  could not speak.

I watched for what seemed like a lifetime. Again the throw, again the cheer;
the curving toss into the darkness filled me each time with fateful fear.
The hands that held, the struggle skyward, time on time that saving grace;
I could not see a point or purpose...who will win this human race?

tectak(typical when bored)
2015

I hope you find some use in my comments, thanks for the read.

[tectak]

Hi, Tom, a fun read that belies the heavy subject. I'm taking this to describe the industrial age but I may be all wrong. It's a rhyme scheme that made me think of classic adventures but the issue is in fact the heart of the current age so it seemed a bit odd to me. Anyway, some notes below.

I watched a thousand men a'marching up a green and gentle hill. I'd prefer "go marching" to "a'marching", it just seems old fashioned.
In line they followed one another, silently with single will. You might consider "silent with a single will."
To his chest the leader clutched an orb of silver, blue and brown; I don't know the meaning of the colors and google will not help me.
and from his eyes  black smoke plumed upwards, from his belly tar poured down.

Upon the summit rain was falling, scalding steam burst from the ground,
when through the foment came a roar and all below froze with the sound.
From fuming smog a hand rose trembling, grasped around the glinting sphere,
and with a lunge the arm flung forward, from the ranks a mighty cheer.

Arching through the swirling vapours, falling, falling through the gloom, I think you could make better use of the foot than the first falling.
the globe was caught by  grabbing hands as gravity holds tight the moon.
A new man held the prize close to him, struggling to attain the peak In the first half of this line the meter trips me.
when from his mouth came soot and sparks. He could not cry, he  could not speak.

I watched for what seemed like a lifetime. Again the throw, again the cheer;
the curving toss into the darkness filled me each time with fateful fear.
The hands that held, the struggle skyward, time on time that saving grace;
I could not see a point or purpose...who will win this human race?

tectak(typical when bored)
2015

I hope you find some use in my comments, thanks for the read.

A clue, ella. The first time I have ever stooped so low The silver, blue, brown sphere? Earth.
After that all is metaphor. Bugger. Failed.
Best and thanks,
tectak

[ellajam]

Hi, Tom, a fun read that belies the heavy subject. I'm taking this to describe the industrial age but I may be all wrong. It's a rhyme scheme that made me think of classic adventures but the issue is in fact the heart of the current age so it seemed a bit odd to me. Anyway, some notes below.

I watched a thousand men a'marching up a green and gentle hill. I'd prefer "go marching" to "a'marching", it just seems old fashioned.
In line they followed one another, silently with single will. You might consider "silent with a single will."
To his chest the leader clutched an orb of silver, blue and brown; I don't know the meaning of the colors and google will not help me.
and from his eyes  black smoke plumed upwards, from his belly tar poured down.

Upon the summit rain was falling, scalding steam burst from the ground,
when through the foment came a roar and all below froze with the sound.
From fuming smog a hand rose trembling, grasped around the glinting sphere,
and with a lunge the arm flung forward, from the ranks a mighty cheer.

Arching through the swirling vapours, falling, falling through the gloom, I think you could make better use of the foot than the first falling.
the globe was caught by  grabbing hands as gravity holds tight the moon.
A new man held the prize close to him, struggling to attain the peak In the first half of this line the meter trips me.
when from his mouth came soot and sparks. He could not cry, he  could not speak.

I watched for what seemed like a lifetime. Again the throw, again the cheer;
the curving toss into the darkness filled me each time with fateful fear.
The hands that held, the struggle skyward, time on time that saving grace;
I could not see a point or purpose...who will win this human race?

tectak(typical when bored)
2015

I hope you find some use in my comments, thanks for the read.

A clue, ella. The first time I have ever stooped so low The silver, blue, brown sphere? Earth.
After that all is metaphor. Bugger. Failed.
Best and thanks,
tectak

It may very well be me, I just glossed over it on earlier reads but when I thought about it for crit I couldn't think why you chose those colors. You could have asked me to think harder.