05-09-2014, 12:14 AM
Nice rhythm. It is iambic dimeter apparently, except for these two lines:
so, as far as content goes, I see the progress of civilization lying on her back with her legs spread out for all to see and her tail tucked in. The railroad divides the once-virgin badlands; hither comes the frontiersman to leave a mark of death on the trees, on the birds, on the deer. Cowardice and discomfort compels these wild souls to strive for luxury inventions, unknowing that a day will come when their efforts under the sun will result in futility, if I may quote Solomon.
Soon, nature takes a backseat to the push of industry. No longer does a family ride a carriage at a relaxing pace through cobbled city streets, and on out of town through forests where robbers may meet justice at the gun of the father; now, we live in an age where a family of six travels so fast across the landscape that the slightest mistake will result in the minivan spiralling into a fiery crash and killing all the occupants. Now, the few troubled idiots who still try to jack cars find themselves tracked down by sophisticated computer software that can recognize their face everywhere they go, keep them from leaving the country, keep them from buying anything or changing their name, make it so that their is no frontier wild enough to hide from the authorities and eke out a living, and all that's left for the criminal is to give up or live a life of increasing aggression and theft since his identity is now taboo.
Nature is a spectacle, nothing more. If it wasn't for Wilson, do you think we'd even have national forests? Or do you think it's more likely that the Sam Houston National forest would be golf courses, tract housing, strip malls, window-barred gas stations, and all the trees the inflammable particle board that composes modern furniture? The few copses of trees left, tens of acres if even that, instead of thousands, are just hunting leases or timber leases, and most of the area is cleared for ranching.
Where Houston stands, at one point in history there was a forest with clear streams and unviolated springs. The human population has grown so staggering that what exists now brings to mind one place: Cybertron.
please pardon my misanthropyKOAH.
Your critiques are often worthy and will save you but pour encourage les autres please leave your soapbox on Speaker's Corner and stick to comments on the poem. You are not in the discussion forum. Gentle reminder. Mod
benno_42 Wrote:bushes fainting in Trochaic trimeterFunny thing is, I was just discussing this subject... reading your poem sounds fine. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think those two meter breaks are perfectly acceptable. The random trochaic long line might throw off some reader's, but it was smooth in my accent, and since you aren't trying for a specific form here, i don't think it matters that much. The last line is a resolute ending on a single word, which I have heard can be dangerous for novice poets like us
skyscrapers Trochaic monometer
so, as far as content goes, I see the progress of civilization lying on her back with her legs spread out for all to see and her tail tucked in. The railroad divides the once-virgin badlands; hither comes the frontiersman to leave a mark of death on the trees, on the birds, on the deer. Cowardice and discomfort compels these wild souls to strive for luxury inventions, unknowing that a day will come when their efforts under the sun will result in futility, if I may quote Solomon.
Soon, nature takes a backseat to the push of industry. No longer does a family ride a carriage at a relaxing pace through cobbled city streets, and on out of town through forests where robbers may meet justice at the gun of the father; now, we live in an age where a family of six travels so fast across the landscape that the slightest mistake will result in the minivan spiralling into a fiery crash and killing all the occupants. Now, the few troubled idiots who still try to jack cars find themselves tracked down by sophisticated computer software that can recognize their face everywhere they go, keep them from leaving the country, keep them from buying anything or changing their name, make it so that their is no frontier wild enough to hide from the authorities and eke out a living, and all that's left for the criminal is to give up or live a life of increasing aggression and theft since his identity is now taboo.
Nature is a spectacle, nothing more. If it wasn't for Wilson, do you think we'd even have national forests? Or do you think it's more likely that the Sam Houston National forest would be golf courses, tract housing, strip malls, window-barred gas stations, and all the trees the inflammable particle board that composes modern furniture? The few copses of trees left, tens of acres if even that, instead of thousands, are just hunting leases or timber leases, and most of the area is cleared for ranching.
Where Houston stands, at one point in history there was a forest with clear streams and unviolated springs. The human population has grown so staggering that what exists now brings to mind one place: Cybertron.
please pardon my misanthropyKOAH.
Your critiques are often worthy and will save you but pour encourage les autres please leave your soapbox on Speaker's Corner and stick to comments on the poem. You are not in the discussion forum. Gentle reminder. Mod
*Warning: blatant tomfoolery above this line