The Saga

[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.