intangible

[gedankespieler]

Edit:

Amber round the rusting tarn, oak tree spindles
net Gedanke from the wind.
Their grasp too weak, the sky too vast,
they cannot understand what passes
through their fingers. Their reflections
are wise enough to dance alone,
ignorant of shadows that
dance behind them.


Long before the day is night
and memories autumn fog,
leaf skeletons crumble in toddlers' hands
and crackle underfoot;
before the thread of self is glimpsed
and lost in dappled garden shade,
is lost amongst the tangled strings
the shallow faces left behind -
these phantoms haunt the garden path, haunt trails of lace,
will never leave the maze -


and while the driveway gravel crunches
under fallen leaves, the Himalayas
shrink to dust and pavements grind
to sand, the car to rust.




Original:

Leaves turn brown, crunch underfoot, vein
skeletons crumble in toddler's grasp
before day is night and memories tear,
before the thread of self
is found and lost in dappled shade and
lost amongst the tangled strings of
pathways left by shallow faces -
phantoms haunt the garden path,
haunt trails of lace -
and while the driveway gravel crunches,
the Himalayas shrink to dust
and driveway gravel grinds to sand:

on steely sand,
the car rusts,
becomes sand.

[Sparkydashforth]

Hi Gedenkespieler,

there's lots to like in this work
some suggestions -

Leaves turn brown, crunch underfoot, vein
skeletons crumble in toddler's grasp..................very clear life and death imagery
before day is night and memories tear,
before the thread of self
is found and lost in dappled shade and
lost amongst the tangled strings of
pathways left by shallow faces -................this is a bit too much muse to take in in one gulp - suggest you distil.
phantoms haunt the garden path,
haunt trails of lace -
and while the driveway gravel crunches,
the Himalayas shrink to dust
and driveway gravel grinds to sand:..............nicely said. I would end the poem here.

on steely sand,
the car rusts,
becomes sand................the repeat of 'sand' and the belaboring of the thought drags the poem down.

Revise this and conquer!

[gedankespieler]

................this is a bit too much muse to take in in one gulp - suggest you distil.

Yeah, I think I have a tendency to condense things too much. Cheers.

................the repeat of 'sand' and the belaboring of the thought drags the poem down.

Hmm, you think so? With the repetition, I was trying to emphasise how everything is transient, but that transience itself is constant, and that various changes are similar in some respect; everything ends in the same state. I see what you mean though; maybe I could do this in a more elegant manner.

[HaleINthewind]

Edit:

Amber round the rusting tarn, oak tree spindles
net Gedanke from the wind.
Their grasp too weak, the sky too vast,
they cannot understand what passes
through their fingers. Their reflections
are wise enough to dance alone,
ignorant of shadows that
dance behind them.


Long before the day is night
and memories autumn fog,
leaf skeletons crumble in toddlers' hands This is strong easy to see imagery and probably my favorite bit. It hits the sense.
and crackle underfoot;
before the thread of self is glimpsed
and lost in dappled garden shade,
is lost amongst the tangled strings
the shallow faces left behind -
these phantoms haunt the garden path, haunt trails of lace,
will never leave the maze -


and while the driveway gravel crunches
under fallen leaves, the Himalayas
shrink to dust and pavements grind
to sand, the car to rust.




Original:

Leaves turn brown, crunch underfoot, vein
skeletons crumble in toddler's grasp
before day is night and memories tear,
before the thread of self
is found and lost in dappled shade and
lost amongst the tangled strings of
pathways left by shallow faces -
phantoms haunt the garden path,
haunt trails of lace -
and while the driveway gravel crunches,
the Himalayas shrink to dust
and driveway gravel grinds to sand:

on steely sand,
the car rusts,
becomes sand.

 I just wanna say I greatly enjoyed this poem. Especially the end the zooming out to something as large as Himalayas shrinking and back in again to the driveway and  car is really nice. It really highlights the passage of time and sums it all up with nice ribbon and bow. Showing in time all things pass and end or are reformed. I think that topic is probably an overdone one. The way you have written it though is a nice take and doesn't feel cliched to me. Others with more experience may be able to help you more. Thanks for the read.

[gedankespieler]

 I just wanna say I greatly enjoyed this poem. Especially the end the zooming out to something as large as Himalayas shrinking and back in again to the driveway and  car is really nice. It really highlights the passage of time and sums it all up with nice ribbon and bow. Showing in time all things pass and end or are reformed. I think that topic is probably an overdone one. The way you have written it though is a nice take and doesn't feel cliched to me. Others with more experience may be able to help you more. Thanks for the read.

Thanks. I was also trying to touch on the intangible nature of the self, and how attempts at compiling your past thoughts and actions into something comprehensible is often futile; thoughts disappear almost as soon as you've had them. I also wanted to evoke the sense of being trapped in imperfect knowledge/understanding, with concepts dissolving even as you create them. Maybe I didn't go into this aspect enough. I have made another edit to the poem, and I suppose it's worth posting.


Amber round the rusting tarn,
oak tree spindles
net Gedanke from the wind.
Understanding passes through
their grasp – too weak,
the sky too vast.
Their brief reflections
wise enough to dance alone
while shadows dance unseen
behind them.


Thick white fog blurs night and day.
Willow feathers fall and rot,
fall apart in toddlers' hands
like smoke.
The thread of self is glimpsed and
lost in garden shade,
tangled with the fallen strings
of shallow faces,
ghosts
who haunt the path as if
their will was not the maze -


and while the driveway gravel crunches
under fallen leaves,
the Himalayas
shrink to dust and pavements grind
to sand, the car to rust.

[Wonderfullife]

I liked the poem. It shows the passage of time in a number of different ways. I especially like how you move from the micro to the macro view.
I would have used imagery, rather than just mentioning the Himalayas.  Adjectives like, snow capped, rugged, majestic, all hint at the seeming permanence of the mountains.
Flows well..
Good

Amber round the rusting tarn, oak tree spindles 
net Gedanke from the wind.
Their grasp too weak, the sky too vast,
they cannot understand what passes
through their fingers. Their reflections
are wise enough to dance alone, 
ignorant of shadows that
dance behind them.


Long before the day is night 
and memories autumn fog,....like.
leaf skeletons crumble in toddlers' hands
and crackle underfoot;...........good use of imagery
before the thread of self is glimpsed 
and lost in dappled garden shade,
is lost amongst the tangled strings 
the shallow faces left behind -
these phantoms haunt the garden path, haunt trails of lace,
will never leave the maze - 


and while the driveway gravel crunches 
under fallen leaves, the Himalayas ....I would have used some imagery here. Something like 'snow-capped  Himalayas' 
shrink to dust and pavements grind 
to sand, the car to rust.

[Mark Cecil]

I really like this poem it really illustrates the transience of life and time which I think is especially expressed at the end with the grandeur of the Himalayas turning to dust.  But also in the first stanza there is a whole lot to like with the wind blowing through the trees and the personifications used there to create vivid images in the head.

[Erthona]

The opening stanza is set up as though it were a metaphor, but reading closely we see it is not, or knot. One generally would not expect and oak to be able to grasp thoughts anymore than it could catch them upon the wind on its makeshift dream-catcher or anymore than a reflection can be wise. It is all well and good to anthropomorphize non-human objects, but they must be set up contextually, or else the response becomes yes and so; that is to say they are a bit nonsensical.

"Long before the day is night"

The day can never be night. One can say, before the day turns to night. It would be similar to saying

"long before the sun is moon"

"and memories autumn fog"

One looks for the verb in this. Is it fog, like to fog up? But no. This is more or less a stanza of dependant clauses strung together, a run on sentence that never stops. Ultimately such structures say nothing and go nowhere. I understand what is being attempted, that is to say disclosing the awe of time, for lack of a better way to say it, yet succeed cannot be stamped on it simply because I can conjecture what the writer may have intended but did not write.

While the third stanza follows in the failings in its predecessors, I do really love the rhythmic quality along with the incidental rhyme.

Making sure that one is writing sentences before lineating into poetic form would seem to be the adage most applicable in this instance.

Best,


dale