They crawled deep

[Mark A Becker]

I think when we finish, we should send them to the anthropologist who made the discovery.

Hey Tim-
I think I’ll name my version “Rising Star” as a nod to that discovery in South Africa. That title seems apropos for the subject.
Yes, my ending is about a 180 from yours: yours a declarative statement, mine a question (to abruptly bring the reader into the scene). Yours ends in their present, mine in ours.
Don’t know if Berger is even the right person to send these poems to, but I’m game.
Mark

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Hey Tim-
Thanks for the inspiration and the absolution. I think those two go well together. I have further edited my version of your poem.  I did drop 'perhaps'- it wasn't adding anything.

YES- your present tense creates an element of immediacy, and that's a good thing. I thought if I switched tenses that my thievery wouldn't be so obvious.

Also, I only 'publish' my poetry here, as well.  I got so many pieces in my personal collection now that I probably ought to do something more with them. But first I need to get one of those circular tokens that has 'to it' engraved on it- you know, 'a round to it'.

Oh- the word you're looking for is 'anthroplogy'.  Somehow pulled that outta my disheveled head.

My latest version is below, though I'm still having a bitch of a time with precise word choices, and line breaks so I still don't consider it as completed. I'd put it in the INTENSE workshop if it wasn't so obviously stolen. (Though I still may):

They crawled deep
into caves to return their dead
to the original dark,
guided by faltering firelight.

They quarreled and clawed
over scraps as hungry predators
listened
at the entrance.

In a prehensile flicker of humanity,
sparked by the magic protection
of fire, they breathed shadows
of language upon cave walls.

Guttural mantras echoed back
to their dead.
Did they expect some God, some Savior,
or only sunrise?

As the saying goes, "good poets borrow, great poets steal."  Well, shitty poets can steal, too, and I'm an example. The following edited piece was inspired by a poem called "Homo Naledi", by Tim (aka TqB).  Many thanks Tim!

They crawled deep
into caves to return their dead,
guided by faltering firelight          i like faltering better than my flickering, may do some stealing of my own
to the original dark.

Perhaps they then quarreled        don't like that perhaps, perhaps that's why I made mine present tense, so i could make some leaps
and clawed over scraps
as hungry predators listened
at the entrance.

In this distant flicker of humanity,
huddled behind the protection
of fire, they scrawled shadows of language
upon cave walls.                                            like this a lot

What prehensile jabber echoed
back to their dead?
They expected no God, no Savior,
only sunrise.                                  I like the question combined with my last two lines

I absolve you.  Pig Pen is my only publishing house.

I always gravitate toward anything archeological.  Although the study of ancient humans has its own -ology which I don't remember the word for, but you know what I mean.