The Dragon Down the Hall (sans the satirical self-critique)

[fim]

Half a stone’s throw down a narrow hall
and across the room at the other end
is a door to a place, a lair I’m sure
where a dragon lays his head.

It is definitely some sort of mystical monster,
a shape-shifter that simply doesn’t reveal
an appearance consistent with its terrifying nature
yet I assure you the dragon is real.

Tales of dragons in legends describe
nostrils blasting fire with each angry breath
villages and all their inhabitants
scorched ‘till there’s nothing left.

But the dragon that lurks down the hall in my life
has never expressed a visible flame,
yet I shudder at times when in the dragon’s eyes
I see the inferno rage.

And though it never leaves physical evidence
of razor sharp claws that adorn its feet,
my heart has been slashed when its eyes flash fire
cuts both long and deep.

Yes, I tremble at the visage of a mortal man
for I know certainly it is just a disguise
and in its presence I have learned how I must behave
to quell the fire that rages in its eyes.

The dragon compels me to face that which I fear
squared up, without detectable fret.
It expects my voice to be strong and steady
my eyes narrowed and never wet.

It insists I ask questions that need to be asked
and risk a response I wouldn’t like;
I can sense it is always evaluating my inclination
to stand my ground or run from a fight.

I was once miserable knowing what the dragon expects
and too fearful not to do what it wants
I longed to be free of the dragon’s domain
to turn from scary things and run.

It is a great burden to know what I know
and keep silent for fear of being called a fool,
because I am certain were I to disclose my secret
I would be subject to much ridicule.

You see the dragon doesn’t disclose his nature
to others in my world,
as a matter of fact he only appears
if I act like a scared little girl.

Life would be so much more pleasant and comfortable
were I permitted to live confrontation free,
to avoid anything that makes me feel awkward or intimidated,
to just be as I would like to be.

But the dragon, the bane of my existence,
watches with jaundiced eye
and insures I am more scared of its wretched wrath
then circumstances that would make me cry.

So I do what I must and act with courage,
sometimes courage I didn’t know I had.
I do it because the dragon is always present
masquerading as a mortal man.

You might think I pray for a prince to arrive
to face the dragon and take his head,
but that really wouldn’t work out so well
my dad loves me and I don’t want him dead.

[ChristopherSea]

fim, I read you piece upon your request and I am not certain what to say. I believe that most failed to critique this or comment in general due to your self-imposed punishment in the form of the exaggerated and highly sarcastic self-critique, especially in view of the poem's theme. I will say that I was moved by both the poem and your self critique. Also, I am sorry if your father was overly critical and you found it hurtful. Moreover, perhaps some of those feelings return when you receive what feels like undo criticism on this site. I also realize that the poem is not always the poet. If that is the case, then you were very effective herein! I would recommend that you remove the extraneous bold mock commentary and perhaps condense the poem so as not to dilute its poignancy and twist. /Chris

[billy]

at first glance this is nowt more than a petulant rant. on closer inspection, (after a few reads) i think it's fucking excellent. i have no idea of the poet's intention in writing this poem, but it works on two or three levels. the level i like is how it shows where things don't work, how shows that accepting crit is hard, so hard that a poet can beat them self up about it but doing this poem. i say this with sincerity; i think this is the best poem of yours i've read. it has emotion, it's pointed, it's intent while clear is also ambiguous (to some extent)

it also carries a lot of truth in the critique which resides in the poem.
loved it

Half a stone’s throw down a narrow hall a "stone" is 16.2 lbs, and that distance divided by half? Somewhat obscure Mr. lacking obscurity.
And across the room at the other end What infernal misconception do you have about capitalization?!? This anachronistic pedantacism is utterly repulsive.
Is a door to a place, a lair I’m sure,
Where a dragon lays his head. Why his "head?" Very cliche'. Do you think it rhymes with "end." Not nearly enough to venture into the world of clichedom (you seem to live in).

It is definitely some sort of mystical monster, and your penchant for alliteration makes me want to vomit ... only because it is so ... predictable. Why "mystical monster?" Try "misunderstood" ... trust your reader to figure out the right word.
A shape-shifter that simply doesn’t reveal there is again ...that alliteration ... again! If I wanted to read that I could go to any other poetry workshop on the web ... cease, and desist with the such an abundance of alliteration!
An appearance consistent with its terrifying nature I am not terrified
Yet I assure you the dragon is real. Don't tell, show!

Tales of dragons in legends describe
Nostrils blasting fire in angry breath,
Villages and all their inhabitants
Scorched ‘till there’s nothing left. This entire stanza is unnecessary!

But the dragon that lurks down the hall in my life I almost like the "in my life."
Has never expressed a visible flame,
Yet I shudder at times when in the dragon’s eyes
I see the inferno rage!

And though it cleverly never leaves physical evidence
Of razor sharp claws that adorn its feet,
My heart has been slashed when its eyes flash fire
Cuts both long and deep.

Yes I tremble at the visage of a mortal man
For I know certainly it is just a disguise,
And in its presence I have learned how I must behave
To quell the fire that rages in its eyes.

The dragon compels me to face that which I fear
Squared up, without detectable fret.
It expects my voice to be strong and steady
My eyes narrowed and never wet.

It insists I ask questions that need to be asked
And risk a response I wouldn’t like,
I can sense it is always evaluating my inclination
To stand my ground or run from a fight

I was once miserable knowing what the dragon expects
And too fearful not to do what it wants,
I longed to be free of the dragon’s domain
To turn from scary things and run.

It is a great burden to know what I know
And keep silent for fear of being called a fool,
Because I am certain were I to disclose my secret
I would be subject to much ridicule.

You see the dragon doesn’t disclose his nature
To others in my world
As a matter of fact he only appears
If I act like a scared little girl.

Life would be so much more pleasant and comfortable
Were I permitted to live confrontation free,
To avoid anything that makes me feel awkward or intimidated
To just be as I would like to be.

But the dragon, the bane of my existence
Watches with jaundiced eye,
And insures I am more scared of its wretched wrath
Then circumstances that would make me cry.

So I do what I must and act with courage
Sometimes courage I didn’t know I had,
I do it because the dragon is always present
Masquerading as a human man.

You might think I pray for a prince to arrive
To face the dragon and take his head,
But that really wouldn’t work out so well
My dad loves me and I don’t want him dead.
fim,
I would have liked to complete my line by line but I couldn't take anymore of each line being capitalized!!! Why do you do that?!?! ... do you have a setting in your word processing system labeled poem self-denigration selected? Edit for capitalization, meter, use of clichés, content and clarity.
MoftheMM

[PoetryAndPhysics]

For what it's worth, I avoid writing long poems (more than like 14 lines) like the plague, because I feel completely not up to the task. Same basically goes for metrical, rhymed ones. Of course, what I should be doing is getting as much practice as I can. So, when the time comes that we'll both be half-way descent poets (years, ugh), you'll take me to task when it comes to anything longer than a sonnet. 

As for dragons, I highly recommend (like, really highly... though it's not like I have many other dragon poems on call) "The Tale of Custard the Dragon" by Ogden Nash if you haven't already read it.

[fim]

Chris, Billy and P&P,
Thank you very much. I quickly read your feedback before having to leave for an appt. I really appreciate your consideration taking the time to read a long (and now mutilated with the satirical self-critique) poem. I will relish and ruminate on your feedback and advice when I return. I don't think this brief narrative adequately conveys how enormously appreciative I am. Let me put it this way, if "the Dragon Down the Hall" was a painting that went for so long unnoticed (for good or bad) I think I would have cut of my ear the top part of my ear!
Thanks,
fim

[billy]

poems on forums, like shooting stars, are fleeting. most get missed because no one's there to see them

[ScurryFunger]

Half a stone’s throw down a narrow hall
and across the room at the other end
is a door to a place, a lair I’m sure
where a dragon lays his head.

It is definitely some sort of mystical monster,
a shape-shifter that simply doesn’t reveal
an appearance consistent with its terrifying nature
yet I assure you the dragon is real.

Tales of dragons in legends describe
nostrils blasting fire with each angry breath
villages and all their inhabitants
scorched ‘till there’s nothing left.

But the dragon that lurks down the hall in my life
has never expressed a visible flame,
yet I shudder at times when in the dragon’s eyes
I see the inferno rage. ( I feel the eternal blame )

And though it never leaves physical evidence
of razor sharp claws that adorn its feet,
my heart has been slashed when its eyes flash fire
cuts both long and deep.

Yes, I tremble at the visage of a mortal man
for I know certainly it is just a disguise
and in its presence I have learned how I must behave
to quell the fire that rages in its eyes.

The dragon compels me to face that which I fear
squared up, without detectable fret.
It expects my voice to be strong and steady
my eyes narrowed and never wet.

It insists I ask questions that need to be asked
and risk a response I wouldn’t like;
I can sense it is always evaluating my inclination
to stand my ground or run from a fight.

I was once miserable knowing what the dragon expects
and too fearful not to do what it wants
I longed to be free of the dragon’s domain
to turn from scary things and run.

It is a great burden to know what I know
and keep silent for fear of being called a fool,
because I am certain were I to disclose my secret
I would be subject to much ridicule.

You see the dragon doesn’t disclose his nature
to others in my world,
as a matter of fact he only appears
if I act like a scared little girl.

Life would be so much more pleasant and comfortable
were I permitted to live confrontation free,
to avoid anything that makes me feel awkward or intimidated,
to just be as I would like to be.

But the dragon, the bane of my existence,
watches with jaundiced eye
and insures I am more scared of its wretched wrath
then circumstances that would make me cry.

So I do what I must and act with courage,
sometimes courage I didn’t know I had.
I do it because the dragon is always present
masquerading as a mortal man.

You might think I pray for a prince to arrive
to face the dragon and take his head,
but that really wouldn’t work out so well
my dad loves me and I don’t want him dead.

I did like the whole premise, tens of the rhymes were 'off' though, I added a blame to rhyme with flame but resisted doing more.

I think you kinda lost the way in the middle there and the last verse seemed a bit incomprehensible but that might just be me.

Best thing I've read from you so far fim. (imho)

[fim]

Half a stone’s throw down a narrow hall
and across the room at the other end
is a door to a place, a lair I’m sure
where a dragon lays his head.

It is definitely some sort of mystical monster,
a shape-shifter that simply doesn’t reveal
an appearance consistent with its terrifying nature
yet I assure you the dragon is real.

Tales of dragons in legends describe
nostrils blasting fire with each angry breath
villages and all their inhabitants
scorched ‘till there’s nothing left.

But the dragon that lurks down the hall in my life
has never expressed a visible flame,
yet I shudder at times when in the dragon’s eyes
I see the inferno rage. ( I feel the eternal blame )

And though it never leaves physical evidence
of razor sharp claws that adorn its feet,
my heart has been slashed when its eyes flash fire
cuts both long and deep.

Yes, I tremble at the visage of a mortal man
for I know certainly it is just a disguise
and in its presence I have learned how I must behave
to quell the fire that rages in its eyes.

The dragon compels me to face that which I fear
squared up, without detectable fret.
It expects my voice to be strong and steady
my eyes narrowed and never wet.

It insists I ask questions that need to be asked
and risk a response I wouldn’t like;
I can sense it is always evaluating my inclination
to stand my ground or run from a fight.

I was once miserable knowing what the dragon expects
and too fearful not to do what it wants
I longed to be free of the dragon’s domain
to turn from scary things and run.

It is a great burden to know what I know
and keep silent for fear of being called a fool,
because I am certain were I to disclose my secret
I would be subject to much ridicule.

You see the dragon doesn’t disclose his nature
to others in my world,
as a matter of fact he only appears
if I act like a scared little girl.

Life would be so much more pleasant and comfortable
were I permitted to live confrontation free,
to avoid anything that makes me feel awkward or intimidated,
to just be as I would like to be.

But the dragon, the bane of my existence,
watches with jaundiced eye
and insures I am more scared of its wretched wrath
then circumstances that would make me cry.

So I do what I must and act with courage,
sometimes courage I didn’t know I had.
I do it because the dragon is always present
masquerading as a mortal man.

You might think I pray for a prince to arrive
to face the dragon and take his head,
but that really wouldn’t work out so well
my dad loves me and I don’t want him dead.

I did like the whole premise, tens of the rhymes were 'off' though, I added a blame to rhyme with flame but resisted doing more.

I think you kinda lost the way in the middle there and the last verse seemed a bit incomprehensible but that might just be me.

Best thing I've read from you so far fim. (imho)

Thanks Scurryfunger.
Is it possible there are different "graduations" of rhyme? I am not inclined to forgo substance, continuity, or flow (although I will, on occasion, forgo a little meter integrity) to attempt to achieve perfect rhyme schemes. I guess what I am saying is that I have no problem living with, for instance, "had" and "man" in stanza 14. Separated by two lines I think there is sufficient "residual rhyme" (for lack of a technically accurate descriptor) to make it work. Am I wrong?
Sometimes in my poems I like the last stanza to have a "punch" in it; I want it to end with a bang. In The Dragon Down the Hall the entire poem a girl is complaining how much she despises the dragon down the hall for making her life miserable. The "bang" I tried to insert into the end is the facts that: she wouldn't want the dragon harmed because it is her dad, and that she loves him even though he makes her life miserable. For some reason I guess it isn't the powerful twist I attempted to create. Hmmm.
Thank you VERY much for the feedback ... you certainly gave me some things to think about.
fim

[ChristopherSea]

Half a stone’s throw down a narrow hall
and across the room at the other end
is a door to a place, a lair I’m sure
where a dragon lays his head.

It is definitely some sort of mystical monster,
a shape-shifter that simply doesn’t reveal
an appearance consistent with its terrifying nature
yet I assure you the dragon is real.

Tales of dragons in legends describe
nostrils blasting fire with each angry breath
villages and all their inhabitants
scorched ‘till there’s nothing left.

But the dragon that lurks down the hall in my life
has never expressed a visible flame,
yet I shudder at times when in the dragon’s eyes
I see the inferno rage. ( I feel the eternal blame )

And though it never leaves physical evidence
of razor sharp claws that adorn its feet,
my heart has been slashed when its eyes flash fire
cuts both long and deep.

Yes, I tremble at the visage of a mortal man
for I know certainly it is just a disguise
and in its presence I have learned how I must behave
to quell the fire that rages in its eyes.

The dragon compels me to face that which I fear
squared up, without detectable fret.
It expects my voice to be strong and steady
my eyes narrowed and never wet.

It insists I ask questions that need to be asked
and risk a response I wouldn’t like;
I can sense it is always evaluating my inclination
to stand my ground or run from a fight.

I was once miserable knowing what the dragon expects
and too fearful not to do what it wants
I longed to be free of the dragon’s domain
to turn from scary things and run.

It is a great burden to know what I know
and keep silent for fear of being called a fool,
because I am certain were I to disclose my secret
I would be subject to much ridicule.

You see the dragon doesn’t disclose his nature
to others in my world,
as a matter of fact he only appears
if I act like a scared little girl.

Life would be so much more pleasant and comfortable
were I permitted to live confrontation free,
to avoid anything that makes me feel awkward or intimidated,
to just be as I would like to be.

But the dragon, the bane of my existence,
watches with jaundiced eye
and insures I am more scared of its wretched wrath
then circumstances that would make me cry.

So I do what I must and act with courage,
sometimes courage I didn’t know I had.
I do it because the dragon is always present
masquerading as a mortal man.

You might think I pray for a prince to arrive
to face the dragon and take his head,
but that really wouldn’t work out so well
my dad loves me and I don’t want him dead.

I did like the whole premise, tens of the rhymes were 'off' though, I added a blame to rhyme with flame but resisted doing more.

I think you kinda lost the way in the middle there and the last verse seemed a bit incomprehensible but that might just be me.

Best thing I've read from you so far fim. (imho)

Thanks Scurryfunger.
Is it possible there are different "graduations" of rhyme? I am not inclined to forgo substance, continuity, or flow (although I will, on occasion, forgo a little meter integrity) to attempt to achieve perfect rhyme schemes. I guess what I am saying is that I have no problem living with, for instance, "had" and "man" in stanza 14. Separated by two lines I think there is sufficient "residual rhyme" (for lack of a technically accurate descriptor) to make it work. Am I wrong?
Sometimes in my poems I like the last stanza to have a "punch" in it; I want it to end with a bang. In The Dragon Down the Hall the entire poem a girl is complaining how much she despises the dragon down the hall for making her life miserable. The "bang" I tried to insert into the end is the facts that: she wouldn't want the dragon harmed because it is her dad, and that she loves him even though he makes her life miserable. For some reason I guess it isn't the powerful twist I attempted to create. Hmmm.
Thank you VERY much for the feedback ... you certainly gave me some things to think about.
fim

Agreed, I like the use of near rhymes or slant rhymes. I am fine with random ones as well.