Rev 4 Changes:
Fixed the clunky opening sequence.
Revision 4
The wind shrieked like the terror of children
left alone—pressed down.
Our hands knotted
with the ropes, abraded
into palsied claws callused as the words
on my tongue,
as the salt from my heart.
Fishermen caught
by this man of words,
who slept as the mast splintered,
and sail split.
Our throats raw from keening
prayers too inarticulate, too feral,
as he slept
and woke to the spray
of our accusations, groggy
as if pulled from a conversation.
He spoke, and starlight pierced the clouds
in a thousand quick thrusts.
The waves receded
like a whisper.
The moment coiled upon itself: a tense serpent
uncertain what to do next.
He that spoke light
had returned light to us,
and we longed to throw ourselves
into the darkness
to hide within the storm.
So still only the echo remained
and we could not bear it.
~~~
Changes Rev 3
Title change
Massive changes (too many to mention): Philatone, tectak, and an offsite friend gave extensive feedback.
Revision 3
The sky—like the terror of children
left alone—pressed down.
Our hands knotted
with the ropes, abraded
into palsied claws callused as the words
on my tongue,
as the salt from my heart.
Fishermen caught
by this man of words,
who slept as the mast splintered,
and sail split.
Our throats raw from keening
prayers too inarticulate, too feral,
as he slept
and woke to the spray
of our accusations, groggy
as if pulled from a conversation.
He spoke, and starlight pierced the clouds
in a thousand quick thrusts.
The waves receded
like a whisper.
The moment coiled upon itself: a tense serpent
uncertain what to do next.
He that spoke light
had returned light to us,
and we longed to throw ourselves
into the darkness
to hide within the storm.
So still only the echo remained
and we could not bear it.
~~~
Changes Rev.2
Addressed the fishermen line: Mark, Philatone
Dealt with one of the word repetitions: Philatone
Dealt with the smooth path line: Philatone
Dropped "the" before waves: Philatone
Revision 2
The sky was like the terror of children
left alone.
Our hands knotted
into the ropes--palsied claws
callused as the words
on my tongue,
as the salt from my heart.
We fishermen, caught
by this man of words—
who slept as the mast splintered,
and sail split.
As our pleas turned to wails,
he slept
to wake to the spray
of our accusations, groggy
as if pulled from a conversation.
He spoke
and starlight pierced the clouds
in a thousand knife thrusts--
waves receding
like a whisper. So still
I almost stepped from the boat.
So still
only the echo remained,
and we could not bear it.
What is a leper, or a blind man,
or the raising of the dead compared
to a voice that can make
the sea submit.
He that spoke light
had returned light to us,
and we only longed to throw ourselves
into the darkness,
to hide within the storm.
~~~
Changes:
There were some broader ideas that I need to continue thinking about. There were though some areas that I could address immediately.
L3: Decided to cut “were”
L7: Opened the line with “as” (inspired by tectak)
S2: Decided to sacrifice the carpenter reference to help pacing and adopt some suggested sonic shifts. Also went with less lines to increase the pacing by eliminating some line break pauses (Philatone) Made some changes to the sail part (tectak)
Removed train-of thought (Philatone)
Removed the question marks and tried to smooth out the phrasing (consensus)
Revised
The sky was like the terror of children
left alone.
Our hands knotted
into the ropes--palsied claws
callused as the words
on my tongue,
as the salt from my heart.
Fishermen, who cast the nets
had become the catch
of this man of words—
who slept as the mast splintered,
and sail split.
As our pleas turned to wails,
he slept
to wake to the spray
of our accusations, groggy
as if pulled from a conversation.
At a word,
the tempest became
a smooth path. So still
I almost stepped from the boat.
So still
only the echo remained,
and we could not bear it.
What is a leper, or a blind man,
or the raising of the dead compared
to a voice that can make
the sea submit.
He that spoke light
had returned light to us,
and we only longed to throw ourselves
into the darkness,
to hide within the storm.
~~~
Original
The sky was like the terror of children
left alone.
Our hands were knotted
into the ropes--palsied claws
callused as the words
on my tongue,
the salt from my heart.
Fishermen, who cast the nets
had become the catch
of this man of words
who brought us here.
This man at home with wood,
who slept while it buckled,
as the mast splintered,
the sail snapped,
as our pleas turned
to wails, he slept
to wake to the spray
of our accusations, groggy
as if pulled from a conversation,
losing his train-of-thought.
At a word,
the tempest became
a smooth path. So still
I almost stepped from the boat.
So still
only the echo remained,
and we could not bear it.
To command the wind
What is a leper? Or a blind man?
Or the raising of the dead? Compared
to a sea that recognizes a voice.
He that spoke light
had returned light to us,
and we only longed to throw ourselves
into the darkness,
to hide within the storm.
Fixed the clunky opening sequence.
Revision 4
The wind shrieked like the terror of children
left alone—pressed down.
Our hands knotted
with the ropes, abraded
into palsied claws callused as the words
on my tongue,
as the salt from my heart.
Fishermen caught
by this man of words,
who slept as the mast splintered,
and sail split.
Our throats raw from keening
prayers too inarticulate, too feral,
as he slept
and woke to the spray
of our accusations, groggy
as if pulled from a conversation.
He spoke, and starlight pierced the clouds
in a thousand quick thrusts.
The waves receded
like a whisper.
The moment coiled upon itself: a tense serpent
uncertain what to do next.
He that spoke light
had returned light to us,
and we longed to throw ourselves
into the darkness
to hide within the storm.
So still only the echo remained
and we could not bear it.
~~~
Changes Rev 3
Title change
Massive changes (too many to mention): Philatone, tectak, and an offsite friend gave extensive feedback.
Revision 3
The sky—like the terror of children
left alone—pressed down.
Our hands knotted
with the ropes, abraded
into palsied claws callused as the words
on my tongue,
as the salt from my heart.
Fishermen caught
by this man of words,
who slept as the mast splintered,
and sail split.
Our throats raw from keening
prayers too inarticulate, too feral,
as he slept
and woke to the spray
of our accusations, groggy
as if pulled from a conversation.
He spoke, and starlight pierced the clouds
in a thousand quick thrusts.
The waves receded
like a whisper.
The moment coiled upon itself: a tense serpent
uncertain what to do next.
He that spoke light
had returned light to us,
and we longed to throw ourselves
into the darkness
to hide within the storm.
So still only the echo remained
and we could not bear it.
~~~
Changes Rev.2
Addressed the fishermen line: Mark, Philatone
Dealt with one of the word repetitions: Philatone
Dealt with the smooth path line: Philatone
Dropped "the" before waves: Philatone
Revision 2
The sky was like the terror of children
left alone.
Our hands knotted
into the ropes--palsied claws
callused as the words
on my tongue,
as the salt from my heart.
We fishermen, caught
by this man of words—
who slept as the mast splintered,
and sail split.
As our pleas turned to wails,
he slept
to wake to the spray
of our accusations, groggy
as if pulled from a conversation.
He spoke
and starlight pierced the clouds
in a thousand knife thrusts--
waves receding
like a whisper. So still
I almost stepped from the boat.
So still
only the echo remained,
and we could not bear it.
What is a leper, or a blind man,
or the raising of the dead compared
to a voice that can make
the sea submit.
He that spoke light
had returned light to us,
and we only longed to throw ourselves
into the darkness,
to hide within the storm.
~~~
Changes:
There were some broader ideas that I need to continue thinking about. There were though some areas that I could address immediately.
L3: Decided to cut “were”
L7: Opened the line with “as” (inspired by tectak)
S2: Decided to sacrifice the carpenter reference to help pacing and adopt some suggested sonic shifts. Also went with less lines to increase the pacing by eliminating some line break pauses (Philatone) Made some changes to the sail part (tectak)
Removed train-of thought (Philatone)
Removed the question marks and tried to smooth out the phrasing (consensus)
Revised
The sky was like the terror of children
left alone.
Our hands knotted
into the ropes--palsied claws
callused as the words
on my tongue,
as the salt from my heart.
Fishermen, who cast the nets
had become the catch
of this man of words—
who slept as the mast splintered,
and sail split.
As our pleas turned to wails,
he slept
to wake to the spray
of our accusations, groggy
as if pulled from a conversation.
At a word,
the tempest became
a smooth path. So still
I almost stepped from the boat.
So still
only the echo remained,
and we could not bear it.
What is a leper, or a blind man,
or the raising of the dead compared
to a voice that can make
the sea submit.
He that spoke light
had returned light to us,
and we only longed to throw ourselves
into the darkness,
to hide within the storm.
~~~
Original
The sky was like the terror of children
left alone.
Our hands were knotted
into the ropes--palsied claws
callused as the words
on my tongue,
the salt from my heart.
Fishermen, who cast the nets
had become the catch
of this man of words
who brought us here.
This man at home with wood,
who slept while it buckled,
as the mast splintered,
the sail snapped,
as our pleas turned
to wails, he slept
to wake to the spray
of our accusations, groggy
as if pulled from a conversation,
losing his train-of-thought.
At a word,
the tempest became
a smooth path. So still
I almost stepped from the boat.
So still
only the echo remained,
and we could not bear it.
To command the wind
What is a leper? Or a blind man?
Or the raising of the dead? Compared
to a sea that recognizes a voice.
He that spoke light
had returned light to us,
and we only longed to throw ourselves
into the darkness,
to hide within the storm.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson