04-03-2012, 03:12 AM
Hi Leanne,
I enjoyed the read. Just a few quick comments.
Best,
Todd
I enjoyed the read. Just a few quick comments.
(04-02-2012, 12:37 PM)Leanne Wrote: You need not ponder changes wrought by age,I hope some of that will be helpful to you Leanne.
my vain and venal baron, for the truth
of you is held on time’s ungreying page
and you will dwell eternally in youth.--The first four lines are a really nice setup. It's interesting to think that someones fame eternally locks them into an unchanging stasis. We have a sense of Byron that is locked. I love the phrasing of time's ungreying page especially
However deep depravity might sink,
such wings as you were given shall not fail,--These lines are interesting for the contrast you build. There probably wasn't much that the common person would find admirable in the man, but his art allowed him to rise above it. One thing I thought of for these lines that may not work was to remove the end punctuation after sink and play with the enjambment to show the wings sinking into his back...some way of showing the cost of the ability to rise. Just thinking out loud, it may not be practical
though courses may not pass as you would think –
you soar, while pious saints grow old and stale.--again nice contrast. The saints are presumed to have wings yet it is the depraved one that soars.
Humanity has flaws; the fiery eye
burns deep within, a passion seeking form;
its beauty is the lightning gone awry,--lovely line. I like the use of beauty in the line as it resonates with byron's most famous line. I also like that beauty is the lightning gone awry which can also be a metaphor for his life
yet only fools and poets ride the storm.--maybe (though it's a pretty close thing) substitute that for the
To capture others’ hearts you broke your own--a bit of a cliche, in a broken heart. It doesn't detract much but it does draw a bit of attention to itself
now through their unmourned dust you rise alone.--I love unmourned dust again for the contrast of it all--which for me is one of the keys to the poem
Best,
Todd
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
