06-20-2013, 06:15 PM
"Hi - A I can't find the bold. Sorry B I like this poem but am worried that some of the lines are there to rhyme rather than be part of the essential fabric of the poem. The effect is sometimes bathos or confusion, which is sad because it's a good subject. In fact, I think the central image of the old dog trying to play with sick, dying rabbit is very strong. As is the link between you two and your advanced (!) ages. On the other hand, good for you for trying a formal exercise. You haven't not not gotten away with it."
Michael
We go to nose the evening rabbit; shadowed, but by scent alive.
She looks to me for height hence vision; I tilt the sun from ageing eyes "'height - hence vision' Still slightly awkward"
and please her with exciting gestures, hoping for a hopping prey.
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, legs still run when bid “Away!”
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail. "What is the subject of this sentence? Legs? Dog? If legs, legs can't really race the wind behind sthing."
Each chase is one less disappointment, one hope that joy will never fail. "So this doesn't scan: 'Each chase one less disappointment - hope that joy will never fail.' This scans."
The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind, "Consider 'these evening gusts blow'"
so coursing comes with sought for quarry; these days only brave and blind "'brave'? more like 'weak'"
will feel the just and gentle jaws, light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench, she puzzles to observe life force "Why "by clench... she puzzles?" Dogs don't have remorse and I'm not sure what this word does here apart from rhyme with force.
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run fast and free, "Hm so really she's wondering why it's not moving rather than observing its life force departing. Slightly complicated way of saying something."
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bites of flea.
No blessing that each death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams;
for this old girl there are no virtues, save to serve her master’s dreams. "Not sure what purpose first line serves"
She has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, every day is moments summed.
But I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow or too far to make the run. "This may not quite contradict what came before, but it could be at the beginning and still fit, which isn't usual in a poem. Or in other words, it is a parallel stream of thought to the rabbit and a short poem can't take this."
She looks to me and I smile on her… she and I get old as one.
Michael
We go to nose the evening rabbit; shadowed, but by scent alive.
She looks to me for height hence vision; I tilt the sun from ageing eyes "'height - hence vision' Still slightly awkward"
and please her with exciting gestures, hoping for a hopping prey.
An old dog, yes, but stiff with purpose, legs still run when bid “Away!”
to shoot through grass and fallow fields, to race the wind behind her tail. "What is the subject of this sentence? Legs? Dog? If legs, legs can't really race the wind behind sthing."
Each chase is one less disappointment, one hope that joy will never fail. "So this doesn't scan: 'Each chase one less disappointment - hope that joy will never fail.' This scans."
The evening gust blows sound to ribbons, splits the spoor of every kind, "Consider 'these evening gusts blow'"
so coursing comes with sought for quarry; these days only brave and blind "'brave'? more like 'weak'"
will feel the just and gentle jaws, light holding but without remorse.
By accidental dental clench, she puzzles to observe life force "Why "by clench... she puzzles?" Dogs don't have remorse and I'm not sure what this word does here apart from rhyme with force.
depart from what was once a plaything, destined to run fast and free, "Hm so really she's wondering why it's not moving rather than observing its life force departing. Slightly complicated way of saying something."
but now hangs ragged, limp and broken, swollen-eyed by bites of flea.
No blessing that each death is sudden, merciful in tight-toothed screams;
for this old girl there are no virtues, save to serve her master’s dreams. "Not sure what purpose first line serves"
She has no thoughts of slow tomorrows, every day is moments summed.
But I, in sadness, saw ambition slowly fail once she succumbed
to hang-dog ways; too close to burrow or too far to make the run. "This may not quite contradict what came before, but it could be at the beginning and still fit, which isn't usual in a poem. Or in other words, it is a parallel stream of thought to the rabbit and a short poem can't take this."
She looks to me and I smile on her… she and I get old as one.