Revised: The Undiscovered Country

[heslopian]

“Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn
No traveler returns” – William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 3, scene 1

My head is propped on eiderdown pillows,
My hands laced over my breasts like willows.
I don’t recall the scene of my demise,
Or how from the pit my spirit did rise.
In truth I rarely consider my fate,
But ponder instead what will my heart sate.
How could I know the joy of loneliness,
While caught in a pretence of godliness.
So vain, so arrogant my budding heart,
That I would never tolerate the smart.
But now as torches light my rotten flesh,
My soul is lost in a dream’s cotton mesh.
No longer do I envy the unborn,
But pity those mortals I’ve left to mourn.

---

original;

“Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn
No traveler returns” – William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 3, scene 1

My head is propped on eiderdown,
my wasted hands folded like clasps
over a bosom now still.
I don't remember how I died.
I rarely think about it much.
Too lost in dreams is my rambling soul,
eternity's hushed cinema, where I am
the only patron. Not once in life
would I have believed the ecstasy of solitude,
as each moment, scraped knees, old wounds,
kisses, sex, illness and joy, flows through
my rotting flesh. Stringing fairy lights across
my ribs and silent jaw. I hope I never leave this shore.
That my energy, my soul, stays locked within
this varnished box, while those above, still suffering, mourn.

[addy]

Wow! That's a pretty extensive edit... you came out with a much crisper product. It reads like a very classic piece, in both tone and sensibility. Nicely done. Not much I can critique, really.

My head is propped on eiderdown pillows,
My hands laced over my breasts like willows. very pretty
I don’t recall the scene of my demise,
Or how from the pit my spirit did rise.
In truth I rarely consider my fate,
But ponder instead what will my heart sate. this definitely struck a chord
How could I know the joy of loneliness,
While caught in a pretence of godliness.
So vain, so arrogant my budding heart,
That I would never tolerate the smart. rhythm seems off? maybe just me
But now as torches light my rotten flesh,
My soul is lost in a "a" not needed dream’s cotton mesh.
No longer do I envy the unborn,
But pity those mortals I’ve left to mourn. Nice close. For me it would be better if this were preluded by something more distinctly positive about death, like instead of the soul being "lost in a dream" just "wrapped in a dream" (LOL or better than that ) of course that's just a thought

[billy]

“Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn
No traveler returns” – William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 3, scene 1

My head is propped on eiderdown pillows,
My hands laced over my breasts like willows.
I don’t recall the scene of my demise,
Or how from the pit my spirit did rise.
In truth I rarely consider my fate,
But ponder instead what will my heart sate.
How could I know the joy of loneliness,
While caught in a pretence of godliness.
So vain, so arrogant my budding heart,
That I would never tolerate the smart.
But now as torches light my rotten flesh,
My soul is lost in a dream’s cotton mesh.
No longer do I envy the unborn,
But pity those mortals I’ve left to mourn.

good effort jack while Leanne is the best informed of this type of poem.
heres my take.

it fits in much better with the intro.
some of iambs seem to be reversed and as such make it feel a little forced in places. while it doesn't flow as well as the original, it could do with a few edits and a little practice, i doubt anyone could just write a sonnet any better than this first or 2nd time round.
IE,
But now as torches light my rotten flesh, iambic
My soul is lost in a dream’s cotton mesh. not iambic (because of 'in a')
But now as torches light my rotten flesh,
My soul is lost in dream's thin cotton mesh. (just an idea)

the end rhyme is spot on.

have a few goes on this thread
it really helped me to get a better grasp of the iamb thing
all in all a great effort with the form. i think with a little practice you'll get the hang of it.

thanks for the read jack. could to see you trying some form work

[heslopian]

Thank you for the feedback and kind words guys This is the first sonnet I really had fun composing, so I may try it again. I think it may have helped to write a free verse poem first and then convert it into form, like building a house based on blueprints.

[Leanne]

Jack, I promise I'll come back to this and give you a proper critique -- the kids are a little distracting today so I can't concentrate You're right about building form from freeverse, it's a great exercise and at first glance I like what you've done... but really, I'll be back, probably tomorrow.

[billy]

Thank you for the feedback and kind words guys This is the first sonnet I really had fun composing, so I may try it again. I think it may have helped to write a free verse poem first and then convert it into form, like building a house based on blueprints.

i bet the reverse could be done as well.
the main thing is that you had fun, it is for me.

[Leanne]

The rhyme scheme's all wrong for a sonnet, and it doesn't really have the question-answer or problem-summary setup, so let's just call it a nice poem of fourteen lines, shall we? That satisfies my anal side


My head is propped on eiderdown pillows, -- this line gives you an immediate meter problem with your last two words: EIderDOWN PILLows. Down is not as strong a stress as the first syllable, but it's noticeable, and pillows just won't shove itself into iambs. In effect, throughout the poem you shift from pentameter to tetrameter as the number of syllables in your feet vary, so what I'm going to suggest is a complete meter change: count feet and not syllables, allow some of the softer stresses to be swallowed up, in a sort of sprung rhythm (a la Gerard Manley Hopkins). This will give you a more natural speaking cadence and not lose your rhymes.

So, it would go something like this:

My HEAD is PROPPED upON these EIDerdown PILLows (5 feet)

To show you how it would work, I can't think of any other way but a tiny rewrite of the whole poem, bearing in mind I'm not trying to change anything but the sound.

My head is propped upon these eiderdown pillows
My hands laced over my breasts like withes of willows.
I don’t recall the scene of my demise,
Nor how from the pit my spirit came to rise.
In truth I rarely think upon my fate,
But ponder instead that which will my heart sate.
How could I know the joy of loneliness,
While caught in such pretence of godliness?
So vain, so arrogant my budding heart,
That I would never tolerate the smart.
But now as torches light my rotten flesh,
My soul is lost in dreaming’s cotton mesh.
No longer do I envy the unborn,
But pity those mortals left behind to mourn.

Really very small changes, you'll notice. If I have a bit of quiet time later I'll record it for you, if you find you're having trouble hearing the meter. I didn't change any of the essence of the poem because frankly, your words are pretty damn good.

[critical mass]

Heslopian

I suck at this formal stuff, so I won't comment on that.

I liked the poem, the meter is off to my ear, but I cant read sonnets anyhow.

You've gone into the Yoda world to fit the words and rhyme into this.
Also a lot seems forced. Happens to me all the time. (there's an insurance commercial in there somewhere).

Keep the lines you know aren't forced and rewrite the ones you know are.

Sometimes a poem starts with a dozen images or sounds jotted down, that sounds nice, that feels right etc.. If they don't fit the poem, no how good the line sounds, put them in another poem.

This is a good start.
The first two lines are the best lines in the poem.

Sorry I couldn't be of more help

David

[heslopian]

Thank you for the feedback Leanne, I love your re-write. Much more Shakespearean than my original revision When I next try a sonnet I'll do it your way.

Thanks too for your feedback David, all constructive criticism is very helpful