02-08-2022, 10:58 PM
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Hi Busker,
not sure it's quite there yet, the new ending, in particular, feels a bit disappointing, The switch from the place to the 'they' of 'what did they achieve' seems rushed, to me.
I think verse one could be pared back, a little. And in verse two the repetition of -ing doesn't work that well sonically. Actually, I think could cut the verse, as it stands, it's not adding anything to the poem.
This is a poem about Iasos,
of moss growing on stones,
stones becoming walls
sometime smitten by the rod of thunder gods, ........I think you mean smote? Plus, 'smitten' and 'rod of thunder gods' is a whole different kettle of entendre.
lying forgotten in tall grass. The glass
like harbour at noon,
broken by rain, and rippled by the wind
dragging a cloud canvas. ......................................... It's too much. Besides the waters aren't Iasos, how about more of the ruins, the agora, the altars, friezes, anything to better evoke the place. It is, as you say 'a poem about Iasos'
adventure enough for argonauts
to weave into tales, and tales into thought,
indivisible from our own ....................................... I like the idea of this. Maybe expand it into a whole verse, not just a fragment?
My two-cents worth
This is a poem about Iasos,
of stones becoming walls
of walls becoming
themselves, forgotten
in the tall grass of countless summers
Of a glass-like harbour at noon,
and the sea broken by rain,
(Out there, beyond the storm
the argonauts are ...)
.........
........
...
having travelled many roads
I come back here again.
Regards, Not
.
Hi Busker,
not sure it's quite there yet, the new ending, in particular, feels a bit disappointing, The switch from the place to the 'they' of 'what did they achieve' seems rushed, to me.
I think verse one could be pared back, a little. And in verse two the repetition of -ing doesn't work that well sonically. Actually, I think could cut the verse, as it stands, it's not adding anything to the poem.
This is a poem about Iasos,
of moss growing on stones,
stones becoming walls
sometime smitten by the rod of thunder gods, ........I think you mean smote? Plus, 'smitten' and 'rod of thunder gods' is a whole different kettle of entendre.
lying forgotten in tall grass. The glass
like harbour at noon,
broken by rain, and rippled by the wind
dragging a cloud canvas. ......................................... It's too much. Besides the waters aren't Iasos, how about more of the ruins, the agora, the altars, friezes, anything to better evoke the place. It is, as you say 'a poem about Iasos'
adventure enough for argonauts
to weave into tales, and tales into thought,
indivisible from our own ....................................... I like the idea of this. Maybe expand it into a whole verse, not just a fragment?
My two-cents worth
This is a poem about Iasos,
of stones becoming walls
of walls becoming
themselves, forgotten
in the tall grass of countless summers
Of a glass-like harbour at noon,
and the sea broken by rain,
(Out there, beyond the storm
the argonauts are ...)
.........
........
...
having travelled many roads
I come back here again.
Regards, Not
.