The Saga

[Brownie]

The Saga

What once was green and gold of day
Has turned to black and brown and grey
And left to die upon the vine
As waters foul and start to brine

Squeezed from the sponge onto the stone
Cleaving the marrow from the bone
Taking with it the ways and means
To burn and thrive and carry the genes

A swamp wallowing in misery's air
Whose roots run deep and limbs stretch bare
Where the saga gleams bright in the noon day sun
Of no more that is that can be done

When autumn bells ring round the land
Yet no leaves lay upon the sand
Who sings the words of solemn tune
For those who stand upon the dune

Along the hill of wooded pine
Losing the fight of great decline
Tapestries once woven in green
Unravel a golden threaded scene

Where fire has spread its fingers long
From first among the rocks held strong
Thought not to burn so far and wide
Contained to just one mountainside

But as is it's way, it found it's path
And blackened all in aftermath
Choked the land in smoke and soot
To crush to dust under the foot

Turning what was bad into much worse
To what was already dried from thirst
Gasping words of the solemn tune
For those who dare to feel immune

Higher still where snows settle in
Where storms gather and air is thin
We begin our quest for what its worth
To give our thanks for time on earth

Together we journey along meadow's edge
And tow our fortunes on weighted sleds
To sink our knees in icy bliss
Rejoicing in winter's first kiss

Circles form in outward splay
Where children of the woodland play
Mellow notes rise on frosted breeze
Lingering awhile amongst the trees

We sing the song against the rend
And to life anew upon the mend
Rearrange the words of the solemn tune
So love goes on as carved in rune

[QDeathstar]

The Saga

What once was green and gold of day
Has turned to black and brown and grey
And left to die upon the vine
As waters foul and start to brine

Squeezed from the sponge onto the stone
Cleaving the marrow from the bone im not a meter expert, but when I read it this line feels off
Taking with it the ways and means
To burn and thrive and carry the genes

A swamp wallowing in misery's air the wa wa of swamp swallowing is classy
Whose roots run deep and limbs stretch bare
Where the saga gleams bright in the noon day sun
Of no more that is that can be done there isn't a complete sentence here, at least, I can't make it out or the meaning. Punctuation, it's not just for prose anymore

When autumn bells ring round the land
Yet no leaves lay upon the sand
Who sings the words of solemn tune
For those who stand upon the dune

Along the hill of wooded pine pine trees don't change color, do they?
Losing the fight of great decline
Tapestries once woven in green
Unravel a golden threaded scene

Where fire has spread its fingers long
From first among the rocks held strong
Thought not to burn so far and wide
Contained to just one mountainside

But as is it's way, it found it's path its overload
And blackened all in aftermath
Choked the land in smoke and soot
To crush to dust under the foot

Turning what was bad into much worse
To what was already dried from thirst
Gasping words of the solemn tune
For those who dare to feel immune this like feels out of place. Rest of the poem is about nature (and destruction of nature) why bring up a crummy human for?

Higher still where snows settle in
Where storms gather and air is thin
We begin our quest for what its worth
To give our thanks for time on earth

Together we journey along meadow's edge
And tow our fortunes on weighted sleds
To sink our knees in icy bliss
Rejoicing in winter's first kiss winters first kiss is kinda cliche, it seems the poem is running out of gas... The imagery now is mostly rehash

Circles form in outward splay
Where children of the woodland play
Mellow notes rise on frosted breeze
Lingering awhile amongst the trees

We sing the song against the rend
And to life anew upon the mend
Rearrange the words of the solemn tune
So love goes on as carved in rune

[Badatpoetry101]

The Saga

What once was green and gold of day
Has turned to black and brown and grey
And left to die upon the vine
As waters foul and start to brine

Squeezed from the sponge onto the stone
Cleaving the marrow from the bone
Taking with it the ways and means
To burn and thrive and carry the genes

A swamp wallowing in misery's air
Whose roots run deep and limbs stretch bare
Where the saga gleams bright in the noon day sun
Of no more that is that can be done

When autumn bells ring round the land
Yet no leaves lay upon the sand
Who sings the words of solemn tune
For those who stand upon the dune

Along the hill of wooded pine
Losing the fight of great decline
Tapestries once woven in green
Unravel a golden threaded scene

Where fire has spread its fingers long
From first among the rocks held strong
Thought not to burn so far and wide
Contained to just one mountainside

But as is it's way, it found it's path
And blackened all in aftermath
Choked the land in smoke and soot
To crush to dust under the foot

Turning what was bad into much worse
To what was already dried from thirst
Gasping words of the solemn tune
For those who dare to feel immune

Higher still where snows settle in
Where storms gather and air is thin
We begin our quest for what its worth
To give our thanks for time on earth

Together we journey along meadow's edge
And tow our fortunes on weighted sleds
To sink our knees in icy bliss
Rejoicing in winter's first kiss

Circles form in outward splay
Where children of the woodland play
Mellow notes rise on frosted breeze
Lingering awhile amongst the trees

We sing the song against the rend
And to life anew upon the mend
Rearrange the words of the solemn tune
So love goes on as carved in rune

Hello, hopefully I can assist you.

What makes a good poem? Some might say it reveals an insight or hidden truth of an aspect of human nature. i.e. Departamental by Robert Frost. Others say that poetry is not an explanation i.e. We real cool by Gwendolyn Brooks. And some say poetry is more than cleverness; poetry offers freedom to think for yourself and make up your own mind on decided matters i.e. Emily Dickinson on death. What is true is that all poems tell a story of some kind and even more reductive in a poem there is change. A poem is not a stone. If the story does not go anywhere we know it is a bad poem and can dismiss it.

Why have you chosen that particular form?

Why have you chosen to use those particular words?

What is the thing that changes in the poem?

I do not understand your poem. Not because it reads a bit abstract. But because nothing changes. It is like you are describing scenery which becomes odd when you introduce yourself in the 10th stanza iirc. And you suddenly disappear. What is the goal of the poem? Crystalize your idea. Once you have it decide what you want to do with it every step of the way. How does this line or even this word contriubute to this idea, to this thesis, to this emotion? I hope to see the next draft of your poem.

[Brownie]

Thanks Q for the comments.

The Saga

What once was green and gold of day
Has turned to black and brown and grey
And left to die upon the vine
As waters foul and start to brine

Squeezed from the sponge onto the stone
Cleaving the marrow from the bone im not a meter expert, but when I read it this line feels off I see what you mean. I'll see if I can add a word
Taking with it the ways and means
To burn and thrive and carry the genes

A swamp wallowing in misery's air the wa wa of swamp swallowing is classy
Whose roots run deep and limbs stretch bare
Where the saga gleams bright in the noon day sun
Of no more that is that can be done there isn't a complete sentence here, at least, I can't make it out or the meaning. Punctuation, it's not just for prose anymore True not a complete sentence. I'm not even sure what kind of sentence it is, or if I was even going for it to be a sentence. I should say that this is a three part poem. This part, the first, is about a serious drought that we are going through. The second part is about a devastating wildfire that ravaged the forests near here this summer. The third is about the snow that falls in the winter that hopefully will take us out of that drought. In the first two parts I threw in a couple of things portraying the feeling of helplessness. This incomplete sentence being one of those things. Sort of a play on words type of thing I guess. I would maybe put a comma in there, but then again maybe not. Any thoughts on this?

When autumn bells ring round the land
Yet no leaves lay upon the sand
Who sings the words of solemn tune
For those who stand upon the dune

Along the hill of wooded pine pine trees don't change color, do they? In this terrible drought, many pine trees have dried up. I didn't think there was a drought possible to do that, but I've been wrong before.
Losing the fight of great decline
Tapestries once woven in green
Unravel a golden threaded scene

Where fire has spread its fingers long
From first among the rocks held strong
Thought not to burn so far and wide
Contained to just one mountainside

But as is it's way, it found it's path its overload I see your point. Another play-on-words going on here. At least an attempt anyways. I'll see if I can change it.
And blackened all in aftermath
Choked the land in smoke and soot
To crush to dust under the foot

Turning what was bad into much worse
To what was already dried from thirst
Gasping words of the solemn tune
For those who dare to feel immune this like feels out of place. Rest of the poem is about nature (and destruction of nature) why bring up a crummy human for? Haha ya. Kind of a downer huh. In rereading it, It actually is like an introduction to the human presence in the next (third) part..... in a way.

Higher still where snows settle in
Where storms gather and air is thin
We begin our quest for what its worth
To give our thanks for time on earth

Together we journey along meadow's edge
And tow our fortunes on weighted sleds
To sink our knees in icy bliss
Rejoicing in winter's first kiss winters first kiss is kinda cliche, it seems the poem is running out of gas... The imagery now is mostly rehash Yes I agree. These two lines are my least favorite. It did run out of gas. I'll try to come up with something else here. Thanks.

Circles form in outward splay
Where children of the woodland play
Mellow notes rise on frosted breeze
Lingering awhile amongst the trees

We sing the song against the rend
And to life anew upon the mend
Rearrange the words of the solemn tune
So love goes on as carved in rune

---

Hello, hopefully I can assist you.

What makes a good poem? Some might say it reveals an insight or hidden truth of an aspect of human nature. i.e. Departamental by Robert Frost. Others say that poetry is not an explanation i.e. We real cool by Gwendolyn Brooks. And some say poetry is more than cleverness; poetry offers freedom to think for yourself and make up your own mind on decided matters i.e.  Emily Dickinson on death. What is true is that all poems tell a story of some kind and even more reductive in a poem there is change. A poem is not a stone. If the story does not go anywhere we know it is a bad poem and can dismiss it.

Why have you chosen that particular form?

Why have you chosen to use those particular words?

What is the thing that changes in the poem?

I do not understand your poem. Not because it reads a bit abstract. But because nothing changes. It is like you are describing scenery which becomes odd when you introduce yourself in the 10th stanza iirc. And you suddenly disappear. What is the goal of the poem? Crystalize your idea. Once you have it decide what you want to do with it every step of the way. How does this line or even this word contriubute to this idea, to this thesis, to this emotion? I hope to see the next draft of your poem.

Thanks Badpoetry for taking the time and for the constructive help. Well, I guess I could start by directing you to my idea of what the poem was about in my previous response to Qdeathstar. That may help explain where my direction was going with this. As to the form, this poem is unusual for me in that it rhymes. Normally I do not rhyme, but I wanted to try it on this one. Something different for me. I don't have an answer for the particular words chosen. Again, because I was trying to rhyme I guess. And as for the thing that changes, in the third section it kind of transitions out of a thing of despair into a thing of hope. That would be my response to the change, but I am confused on why a poem must go through a change in order to be good. Maybe you could explain some more of that for me. Thanks.