Notes to Self. 2009-2015

[tectak]

I am the sum of many parts, some circumstance and fate.
I know myself or think I do, but through a compound eye I see
the circling dance of others who divide their lives by love or hate;
espousing this, negating that, assured by their life policy.

To those who see in monochrome I am a man of grey;
but slit me with a keen-honed word, or puncture me with poisoned pen,
and all the well-red blood will pour, from all who had a part to play
in casting me to be just one among a million, million men.

Surprises now are less and less, fresh thoughts a memory.
So dance for me a different waltz, and swirl me off to somewhere rare.
Spin while you can in certainty that this is how your world will be.
Take me along but bind my eyes, abandon me when we get there.

No, I am old and you are young…you follow on my trail.
Look down, though, when the scent goes cold and only stones in faded view
will guide you by that final sense; touch each before you grow too frail
then sit and call out names you knew, they will be calling you.

If love and hate should follow you, your journey will not end.
You’ll walk alone— a penalty— for wearing truth’s concealing mask,
instead of being someone else; a lie in love, a pretend friend.
Late daylight dawns, where is the way? But it’s too late to ask.

Though I am lost I will not ask where is this place…where am I now?
I flew with trade winds, words were gold, and all desired my contraband;
but current wins against the breeze. Once no one steers, the pointing prow
on awkward tide turns out to sea, then grateful founds on foreign land.

Tectak
From “A Diary” 2009-2015

[Brownlie]

Ok, Here we go.

I am the sum of many parts, some circumstance and fate. -- I like the first part (before the comma) better.
I know myself or think I do, but through a compound  eye I see -- Why not, "I see through a compound Eye."
the circling dance of others who divide their lives by love or hate;
espousing this, negating that, assured by their life policy.

To those who see in monochrome I am a man of grey; -- Either a comma after monochrome or, what may be better, put "I am a man of grey" before "To those who see in monochrome."
but slit me with a keen-honed word, or puncture me with poisoned pen, -- Poisoned pen seems a little awkward, but it does seem to convey part of the stately pomp of iambics (not calling the poem pompous because I don't think it is).
and all the well-red blood will pour, from all who had a part to play -- I'm assuming well-red is a pun of sorts.
in casting me to be just one among a million, million men. -- why not "a million other," or a billion or something.

Surprises now are less and less, fresh thoughts a memory. -- How could a memory be fresh thoughts?
So dance for me a different waltz, and swirl me off to somewhere rare.
Spin while you can in certainty that this is how your world will be.
Take me along but bind my eyes, abandon me when we get there.

No, I am old and you are young…you follow on my trail.
Look down, though, when the scent goes cold and only stones in faded view
will guide you by that final sense; touch each before you grow too frail
then sit and call out names you knew, they will be calling you.
 
If love and hate should follow you, your journey will not end.
You’ll walk alone— a  penalty— for wearing truth’s concealing mask,
instead of being someone else; a lie in love, a pretend friend.
Late daylight dawns, where is the way? But it’s too late to ask.  
 
Though I am lost I will not ask where is this place…where am I now?
I flew with trade winds, words were gold, and all desired my contraband;
but current wins against the  breeze. Once no one steers, the pointing prow    
on awkward tide turns out to sea, then grateful founds on foreign land.

Tectak
From “A Diary” 2009-2015

Well, it seems quite mellifluous in certain places. I made some comments, and I suppose you could explain the poem if you see fit.

Thanks for posting.

[tectak]

Ok, Here we go.

I am the sum of many parts, some circumstance and fate. -- I like the first part (before the comma) better.better than?
I know myself or think I do, but through a compound  eye I see -- Why not, "I see through a compound Eye."because it would not rhyme with policy
the circling dance of others who divide their lives by love or hate;
espousing this, negating that, assured by their life policy.

To those who see in monochrome I am a man of grey; -- Either a comma after monochrome or, what may be better, put "I am a man of grey" before "To those who see in monochrome."because it would not rhyme with play BUT I agree on the comma
but slit me with a keen-honed word, or puncture me with poisoned pen, -- Poisoned pen seems a little awkward, but it does seem to convey part of the stately pomp of iambics (not calling the poem pompous because I don't think it is). No, I don't like it, either
and all the well-red blood will pour, from all who had a part to play -- I'm assuming well-red is a pun of sorts.contemporaneous pun well funny...not
in casting me to be just one among a million, million men. -- why not "a million other," or a billion or something.True, but why not a million, million?

Surprises now are less and less, fresh thoughts a memory. -- How could a memory be fresh thoughts? A memory cannot be fresh thoughts. That is why it says that fresh thoughts are (but) a memory.
So dance for me a different waltz, and swirl me off to somewhere rare.
Spin while you can in certainty that this is how your world will be.
Take me along but bind my eyes, abandon me when we get there.

No, I am old and you are young…you follow on my trail.
Look down, though, when the scent goes cold and only stones in faded view
will guide you by that final sense; touch each before you grow too frail
then sit and call out names you knew, they will be calling you.
 
If love and hate should follow you, your journey will not end.
You’ll walk alone— a  penalty— for wearing truth’s concealing mask,
instead of being someone else; a lie in love, a pretend friend.
Late daylight dawns, where is the way? But it’s too late to ask.  
 
Though I am lost I will not ask where is this place…where am I now?
I flew with trade winds, words were gold, and all desired my contraband;
but current wins against the  breeze. Once no one steers, the pointing prow    
on awkward tide turns out to sea, then grateful founds on foreign land.

Tectak
From “A Diary” 2009-2015

Well, it seems quite mellifluous in certain places. I made some comments, and I suppose you could explain the poem if you see fit.I cannot explain "it" as "it" was written in six parts with a year between each part. There is no concurrent connection between the stanzas. I just noticed how boringly and mundanely consistent I am when re-reading the "yearly" diary. I had a task putting the stanzas in to a (different) chronological order. I must get a life.
Thanks, brownlie, as always.
Best,
Tom

Thanks for posting.

[just mercedes]

The first thing that struck me about your poem was the change in feet in the lines of the quatrains. I'm not sure why I then had to count each line, expecting the third line to have 12 syllables, or  maybe even the fourth, I thought, when that wasn't so. Just my anal problem, wanting everything to be neatly classified.

I am the sum of many parts, some circumstance and fate. 12 syllables
I know myself or think I do, but through a compound  eye I see 16   Sorry, but I thought of a  blowfly.
the circling dance of others who divide their lives by love or hate; 16
espousing this, negating that, assured by their life policy. 16

To those who see in monochrome I am a man of grey; 14
but slit me with a keen-honed word, or puncture me with poisoned pen, 16  'keen-honed word' strong imagery
and all the well-red blood will pour, from all who had a part to play 16 nice pun
in casting me to be just one among a million, million men. 16

You move from addressing the air to addressing one particular person here


Surprises now are less and less, fresh thoughts a memory. 16 'are' feels weak in this  line
So dance for me a different waltz, and swirl me off to somewhere rare. 16 'dance for me' and 'swirl me off' - one is dancing by themselves, the other is two dancing together. Maybe 'dance with me' would fit better
Spin while you can in certainty that this is how your world will be. 16 First syllable stressed instead of unstressed
Take me along but bind my eyes, abandon me when we get there. 16 ditto

No, I am old and you are young…you follow on my trail. 14
Look down, though, when the scent goes cold and only stones in faded view 17 and changes in stress
will guide you by that final sense; touch each before you grow too frail 16
then sit and call out names you knew, they will be calling you. 14 This image is so plaintive to me, I love it
 
If love and hate should follow you, your journey will not end. 14
You’ll walk alone— a  penalty— for wearing truth’s concealing mask, 16 paradox of truth and mask - I like
instead of being someone else; a lie in love, a pretend friend. 16 stress change
Late daylight dawns, where is the way? But it’s too late to ask.  14

Then somehow you're not addressing the same person, but making observations again. Made  me wonder, of whom you ask the question Where am I now?
 
Though I am lost I will not ask where is this place…where am I now? 16
I flew with trade winds, words were gold, and all desired my contraband; 16 words as contraband - great image
but current wins against the  breeze. Once no one steers, the pointing prow  16  I'm not sure that image works - current winning against breeze
on awkward tide turns out to sea, then grateful founds on foreign land. 16 Lots of adjectives in these two lines


Tectak
From “A Diary” 2009-2015

This feels like a rumination on life, and a dispensing of advice to a younger person, son or grandson maybe, rather than journal entries. I didn't read the other critiques yet, so please excuse me if I've gone over ground already covered. And thank you for posting this!

[tectak]

The first thing that struck me about your poem was the change in feet in the lines of the quatrains. I'm not sure why I then had to count each line, expecting the third line to have 12 syllables, or  maybe even the fourth, I thought, when that wasn't so. Just my anal problem, wanting everything to be neatly classified.

I am the sum of many parts, some circumstance and fate. 12 syllables14
I know myself or think I do, but through a compound  eye I see 16   Sorry, but I thought of a  blowfly.
the circling dance of others who divide their lives by love or hate; 16
espousing this, negating that, assured by their life policy. 16

To those who see in monochrome I am a man of grey; 14
but slit me with a keen-honed word, or puncture me with poisoned pen, 16  'keen-honed word' strong imagery
and all the well-red blood will pour, from all who had a part to play 16 nice pun
in casting me to be just one among a million, million men. 16

You move from addressing the air to addressing one particular person here


Surprises now are less and less, fresh thoughts a memory. 16 'are' feels weak in this  line14
So dance for me a different waltz, and swirl me off to somewhere rare. 16 'dance for me' and 'swirl me off' - one is dancing by themselves, the other is two dancing together. Maybe 'dance with me' would fit better
Spin while you can in certainty that this is how your world will be. 16 First syllable stressed instead of unstressed
Take me along but bind my eyes, abandon me when we get there. 16 ditto

No, I am old and you are young…you follow on my trail. 14
Look down, though, when the scent goes cold and only stones in faded view 17 and changes in stressAgreed. Will change to suit our anii
will guide you by that final sense; touch each before you grow too frail 16
then sit and call out names you knew, they will be calling you. 14 This image is so plaintive to me, I love it
  the stanzas are not, and never were, connected in any correlative sense. The only tenuous link is that they were each written in the January of six successive years but not necessarily in the order presented.
If love and hate should follow you, your journey will not end. 14
You’ll walk alone— a  penalty— for wearing truth’s concealing mask, 16 paradox of truth and mask - I like
instead of being someone else; a lie in love, a pretend friend. 16 stress change
Late daylight dawns, where is the way? But it’s too late to ask.  14

Then somehow you're not addressing the same person, but making observations again. Made  me wonder, of whom you ask the question Where am I now?Notes to self. I could not bear the formality and unfamiliarity of "Though one is lost one will not ask where is this place...where is one now"
 
Though I am lost I will not ask where is this place…where am I now? 16
I flew with trade winds, words were gold, and all desired my contraband; 16 words as contraband - great image
but current wins against the  breeze. Once no one steers, the pointing prow  16  I'm not sure that image works - current winning against breezeIt does when you are in a Mirror Class dinghy and the bloody wind drops but the tide is running.
on awkward tide turns out to sea, then grateful founds on foreign land. 16 Lots of adjectives in these two lines
1.5 per line. Is that a lot? I hear you, though.

Tectak
From “A Diary” 2009-2015

This feels like a rumination on life, and a dispensing of advice to a younger person, son or grandson maybe, rather than journal entries. I didn't read the other critiques yet, so please excuse me if I've gone over ground already covered. And thank you for posting this!

Always grateful, I will make changes.I may stop the ritual...it is too indicative of passing time.
Best,
tectak

[billy]

i know it's misc but some feedback nonetheless

some goodies, some not so goodies for me tom. the last verse lost me from the poem.

I am the sum of many parts, some circumstance and fate. i would suggest using some twice in this line. to separate the two, the first half is pretty much cliche
I know myself or think I do, but through a compound  eye I see
the circling dance of others who divide their lives by love or hate;
espousing this, negating that, assured by their life policy. the rest of this verse worked well, a little wordy but it's your style and doesn't overly hinder the thing,

To those who see in monochrome I am a man of grey;
but slit me with a keen-honed word, or puncture me with poisoned pen,
and all the well-red blood will pour, from all who had a part to play
in casting me to be just one among a million, million men. self explanatory verse that works well enough to leave as is, I enoyed the million million men in the last line, good [m's] and a great sense of one of many

Surprises now are less and less, fresh thoughts a memory. the latter half of this line doesn't work for me
So dance for me a different waltz, and swirl me off to somewhere rare.
Spin while you can in certainty that this is how your world will be.
Take me along but bind my eyes, abandon me when we get there. not sure what's being said in the last 3 lines but they are said well. there's a sense of returning to childhood

No, I am old and you are young…you follow on my trail.
Look down, though, when the scent goes cold and only stones in faded view
will guide you by that final sense; touch each before you grow too frail
then sit and call out names you knew, they will be calling you.
 
If love and hate should follow you, your journey will not end.
You’ll walk alone— a  penalty— for wearing truth’s concealing mask,
instead of being someone else; a lie in love, a pretend friend.
Late daylight dawns, where is the way? But it’s too late to ask.  got little from this verse
 
Though I am lost I will not ask where is this place…where am I now?
I flew with trade winds, words were gold, and all desired my contraband;
but current wins against the  breeze. Once no one steers, the pointing prow    
on awkward tide turns out to sea, then grateful founds on foreign land.

Tectak
From “A Diary” 2009-2015