A tale that hung thereby.........v2

[tectak]

A tale that hung thereby (or poor Emmet's tale)

Up came the blast to meet we four, hastening down the scree,
And each within his bones felt dread
When down below the land fell dead
And buried, deep; in cloud so dense
Our vision failed. We could not sense
Enough to judge which way was whence
Within that vap'rous sea.
what a great opening, for some reason i'm thinking of the 4 riders of the apocalypse. though no mention of mounts are made. (i know it isn't about them, but it has that kind of power)

From howl on howl there came a roar as of a great release.
We braced ourselves against cold stones
And tensed our sinews, wedged our bones,
Against the tearing wind's wild veer.
Hell's hounds broke loose and mortal fear
Convinced us that our end was near
But with it, promised peace.
and another great verse. the way it flows through the head is excellent. it's hard for me to pick any good lines out because they're all well rounded into each of their respective verse.

Still rising yet, in mighty gusts, the air throbbed with my heart;
Then each in turn shed tears for life,
Old memories of love and strife.
Our prayers, sucked out in precious breath,
Were surely meant; as sure as death
Comes to us all, yet worries less
Until we needs must part. at last, (it's probably me but) i struggled comprehension wise with the last two lines. the rest of the verse i had no problem with and like the others all of the verse flowed really well

We clamped down tight in fear and fright of what the fates might bring. great 'F' sounds.
The air had turned and rodding rain
Became steel shafts; and such the pain
Upon our cold and exposed brows,
Resolved we then to tell of how
We lived through this. We made a vow,
Then all began to sing. this line came as a surprise (it felt too jolly)

Our grip on life was holding yet, though Emmet's voice grew shrill.
A deep and chill foreboding rose,
Whilst in our hearts our life blood froze.
From far away a rushing scream,
As of the horror in a dream,
Bore down on us, a threat unseen,
That tested each man's will.

The very land beneath us shook and trembled deep and low
And we, prostrate on scavenged rock
Felt every tremor, every shock
As all around dark earth slid free, 1 of many good images
And yielding to God's gravity,
Assumed a strange fluidity:
A fearsome, fateful flow.

Above us screeched the mighty wind, an endless dire lament.
To left and right flowed liquid land,
Encroaching, yet no man could stand,
Nor raise himself up to his knees,
Nor lift a finger to appease
His God, impossible to please,
By prayer or sacrament.

Yet pray we did, each to himself, as cold cut through our bones.
The words were formed of breathless sound
Anguished by terror all around;
And all our hopes were much the same,
That by accepting equal blame
We would, sans hubris and disdain,
Be guided safely home.

Drowned out by hail that now hurled down, our prayers were good as sin.
The rolling wall of earth and grit
Began to wear us, bit by bit.
Our fingers, frozen, failed to grip
Upon the scree. We knew to slip
Would bring and end to this last trip
And death would take us in.

The first, poor Emmet, lost his hold and wailing slipped from sight.
His face a mask of terror, pale
And bloodied by the gritty hail,
Transfixed us three as he slid by,
We three (who cannot, will not die)
In silence , vowed to death defy
And for poor Emmet.. fight!

The rope, once stiff and frozen hard, now jerked and snagged and flailed.
Poor Emmet, though now lost to view
By weight and pull still lived. We knew
That only moments had he left
Before sucked in to mud filled cleft,
Before of life he fell bereft;
We could not , would not fail.

Blaygrave screamed out "ROCKS ABOVE!", and pointed, mimed and waved.
McKenny gripped the taught raw line
And plucked it hard to send a sign.
I felt the tug and turned to look,
Good that I did, the mountain shook,
And by his friendship and by luck
I leapt and so was saved.

Great boulders crashed around the ledge and hurtled overhead.
We clung on to to the iron hard cord
And damned the Devil and the Lord.
And all the while poor Emmet swung
On that long rope, in fear he hung,
No hope of help from lowered rung,
Believing all were dead.

The wind had peaked but angered gusts upon our perch now slammed.
Yet by the nature of the fight
We felt an easing, then saw light
Flirt with the mist that swirled on high,
A glint of sun in smoking sky;
Then brighter till it sored the eye
And through our tears saw land.

Rain softened as the wind resigned, as though to destined fate.
McKenny hauled Blaygrave upright
I grasped them both and held them tight.
Elation turned to sickening dread
As slowly crept we to the edge
And peered down from our puny ledge
To see poor Emmet's state.

There he swayed encased in clay, arms hanging, dripping blood.
No more like death had any seen
Nor lived through such and yet still been
Alive and quick to thank his Lord
With grateful, humble, whispered word
That surely all the world had heard:
A prayer to brotherhood.

We sit now in this warming place, poor Emmet sleeps away.
We speak each of our inner fears
And these are mine, through gladdened tears.
The others will have thoughts to tell
Of that grave day poor Emmet fell (double space between grave and day. just mentioning it to show i'm still with the poem) it wasn't a problem
And how through grace all turned out well;
Though Emmet will not say.

Tectak
2011

the rhyme scheme is so subtle i never noticed (i did see it because i looked for it abbccca the narrative was excellent, i did see 1 or 2 yoda speaks but for me they only added to the tale giving it some kind of depth pertaining to another time. i only wish i could be more constructive, as i see with the edit you're workshopping the piece. the poem flowed easily yet held the reader in suspense.

i would say this is a very publishable piece, one i wouldn't grumble at, should it be in a book i'd paid for. you can see no comments in the later verse because i read them of sameness quality-wise, which was excellent. one of the things i enjoyed most was how the piece kept me on the edge (jmo)

thanks for the read

Most encouraging, Billy. You were perceptive beyond your modesty! Yes...it was "of another time". The language was hopefully JUST bordering on mid/late-19th century English as often indicated in stories of the heroic escapades of the time. This is the antidote to "The Ascent of Rum Doodle", a cult fiction of the ludicrous tale of Englishmen in their almost farcical attempt to ascend a great peak "unaided". I will say no more as the book is googleable.
On the puzzling line "as sure as death...." I am afraid I may have sacrificed conciseness on the altar of requirement! I was trying to say that death never worries us ( that is to say, our heroes) in spite of its inevitability, until it is imminent. This moreso if you are hanging on to a rope half way down a mountain when the weather whites out and the wind becomes frightful and down comes the rain, snow and hail!
Thanks for your input. Everything counts.
Best,
tectak