08-03-2015, 07:53 PM
(08-03-2015, 07:48 AM)Turtle Wrote: They've taken to vast oceans, Who? Will beasts of burden be a clue?Hi turtle,
sailing vessels soaked in lacquer, No...and what is this laquer to which you refer? Is "sailing" a descriptor or a verb? 3 Q's and no A's yet.
distilled with broken fingers and About now I am sure I have missed a monumental metaphor. Now, as metaphors should clarify I am doubly disabled if I cannot even find the bloody thing. What is "distilled"? Why is it distilled? What breaks whose fingers? Are the "men" next line, beasts of burden? Is the greatest fear the fear of fear itself or is there a greater fear of the fear of fear itself...and...and...well, you see the problem.Phobophobophobophobia.
by men afraid of fear.
Forsaking their ancient nature, If atavism comes in to this there had better be a good reason...but until we define "they" nothing really matters. This is a technical issue...the structure of the piece is threatened by the lack of rigidity. The whole piece is so flimsy it is like a tower built of words but held together with fog.Homogenous it ain't. I believe that the over-use of they/their is a significant issue.
they hail the god of cold wrath,
the lord of homogeneity, This is downright obscure. Abstract I can just about take but deliberate obtuseness smacks of author anal retention. You KNOW what you mean and you are keeping the meaning hidden somewhere the sun don't shine. Is this an unfair comment? Should I appease thus-wise? OK. It could be me, but...
praising their golden sun.
They found new homes in old lands,
preying upon weakened equals
and courageous hospitality,
only to stray from those words
spoken by those who would save our world. Gobbledygook
Abounding with trinkets, they are
bringers of Steel Beasts of Burden,
chariots made by boiling blood,
silvering teeth, and hating love. To damned wordy for a simple cliche. White man come...bring offerings and great thunder-beast to cross our sacred land...take our buffalo and etc etc. You may as well just say it...cliches can be made of words or of intentions. Sometimes both.
They stole the earth, written and justified,
proprietors of stolen hearts,
they would wave fingers and noses,
while gnawing away at stars in the sky. Comedic but then collapses in to death on a stage. Nobody laughs at the waving noses.
We watched and wept,
waving our hands in peace,
saving ourselves from the burden,
the beast,
fading away while standing on both our feet. Amen...a life sentence if ever I read one.
I sometimes wish I could cast a universal spell and make all poetry clear in intent and simple in construct...but how boring would that be? Instead, I continue to wrestle with the deep and profound thinking which is manifestly popular amongst the esoteric writers. Work like this puzzles me greatly and I am at a loss to make easy sense of it. No doubt (well,nothing is certain) I could spend a day or too convincing myself that I "get" it...but surely, it is the job/purpose/point/raison d'etre of the poet to make clear the theme. In line comments, then, are more on technicalities.
Best,
tectak