Untangling - edit
#1
Untangling


When I was young my father told me how
when working through a snarl of tangled rope
to find an end, then lead it through each knot
until its other end confirms you’re done.

He didn’t know he talked philosophy,
just practical instruction for his son
and yet as guidance for a worthy life
it leaves most other systems in the shade.

But I’m not him, with but one end to hold
in sight, the house of many mansions’  light.
My life’s a tangle with its earthly ends
both fixed beyond a mind’s maneuvering.

This means in theory nothing will be tied:
there are no tangles, knots are never real.
Yet when I pull, the blob of curling snarls
drags on as one, inscrutable and tight.

My method, learned on cable, hose, and cord
is finding loops, those teardrops out of which
the tangle’s complex knots are woven hard:
choose one loop, if it’s single pull it through.

But if it joins an interlocked design -
cross, trefoil, valentine, or swastika -
trace each lobe of its pattern ‘til you find
a simple circuit acting as an end.

Pull out this master loop, the figure’s gone;
repeat this cogitation and release.
In time a wending line emerges, straight
and purely obvious, no clumps or knots.

My father’s heaven being closed to me,
my goal is worldly, plain simplicity.

original version;

When I was young my father told me how
when working through a snarl of tangled rope
to find an end, then lead it through each knot
until its other end shows all is well.

He didn’t know he talked philosophy
just practical instruction for his son
and yet as guidance for the life of man
it leaves most other systems in the shade.

But I’m not him, with but one end to hold
in sight, the house of many mansions’  light.
My life’s a tangle but its earthly ends
are fixed beyond a mind’s maneuvering.

This means according to topology
there are no tangles, knots are never real.
Yet when I pull, the blob of curling snarls
drags on as one, inscrutable and tight.

My method - which can’t be original -
is finding loops, those teardrops out of which
the tangle’s complex knots are woven hard:
choose one loop, if it’s single pull it through.

But if it joins an interlocked design -
cross, trefoil, valentine, or swastika -
trace each lobe of its pattern ‘til you find
a simple circuit acting as an end.

Pull out this master loop, the figure’s gone;
repeat this cogitation and release.
In time a wending line emerges, straight
and purely obvious, no knots or doubts.

My father’s mansions being closed to me,
my goal is knowing, found simplicity.
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#2
I don't think I got all the images/meaning here, lemme just do this and also let you know what I found difficult, if that helps
(07-31-2017, 10:58 AM)dukealien Wrote:  Untangling


When I was young my father told me how
when working through a snarl of tangled rope          // I get a seafarer vibe for no good reason
to find an end, then lead it through each knot
until its other end shows all is well.

He didn’t know he talked philosophy
just practical instruction for his son
and yet as guidance for the life of man
it leaves most other systems in the shade.          //I really like the matter-of-fact nature of these first two stanzas

But I’m not him, with but one end to hold
in sight, the house of many mansions’  light.       // a call to ancestry? I'm confused here
My life’s a tangle but its earthly ends                  // I really like this description of life
are fixed beyond a mind’s maneuvering.

This means according to topology
there are no tangles, knots are never real.
Yet when I pull, the blob of curling snarls        // a very interesting image here, a blob of curling snarls - very menacing
drags on as one, inscrutable and tight.

My method - which can’t be original -
is finding loops, those teardrops out of which       // teardrops - why teardrops?
the tangle’s complex knots are woven hard:
choose one loop, if it’s single pull it through.

But if it joins an interlocked design -
cross, trefoil, valentine, or swastika -
trace each lobe of its pattern ‘til you find
a simple circuit acting as an end.                   // is this about religion, love and politics? relationships as the agents of complexity?

Pull out this master loop, the figure’s gone;     // out of the blue
repeat this cogitation and release.               
In time a wending line emerges, straight
and purely obvious, no knots or doubts.

My father’s mansions being closed to me,
my goal is knowing, found simplicity.            // these two lines hide some meaning that eludes me

All in all, a sublime description of the ineffability of this journey.
The Chronicles of Lethargia
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#3
I had difficulty finding any fault in this poem,
but I will pull out a magnifying glass and find something, I'm sure.


Untangling                                                                                              I thought of hair or fine chains, when I saw the title


When I was young my father told me how                                            
when working through a snarl of tangled rope
to find an end, then lead it through each knot
until its other end shows all is well.                                                                                                       

He didn’t know he talked philosophy
just practical instruction for his son                                                       
and yet as guidance for the life of man                                                    perhaps a comma after yet, and life of [a] man
it leaves most other systems in the shade.                                               systems is a strange choice for a word here

But I’m not him, with but one end to hold
in sight, the house of many mansions’  light.                                            if this is in reference to a book or hymn title, it may not be fully accurate
My life’s a tangle but its earthly ends
are fixed beyond a mind’s maneuvering.

This means according to topology                                                            though necessary for a point, this is a very unpoetic word, too formal,
there are no tangles, knots are never real.                                                the aesthetics of it, doesn't fit into the body of the poem. As though
Yet when I pull, the blob of curling snarls                                                   a brainiac is straining themself to be a simple graceful troubadour
drags on as one, inscrutable and tight.

My method - which can’t be original -
is finding loops, those teardrops out of which
the tangle’s complex knots are woven hard:
choose one loop, if it’s single pull it through.

But if it joins an interlocked design -
cross, trefoil, valentine, or swastika -                                                           these four words lightened up the poem and showed a variety of types
trace each lobe of its pattern ‘til you find
a simple circuit acting as an end.

Pull out this master loop, the figure’s gone;
repeat this cogitation and release.
In time a wending line emerges, straight
and purely obvious, no knots or doubts.

My father’s mansions being closed to me,                                                    this reminds me of how many times I see God having done something
my goal is knowing, found simplicity.                                                           and another person comes along and tries to rob the credit. I really
                                                                                                                   like the last two words.



the poem had a wonderful feel to it, peaceful in many ways.
I was not objective or helpful enough in my first critique,
which was a bit hasty of me and I am sorry. I've had some
difficulty with critiques on this site today, there is some delay
in words and backspacing for some reason.

thank you for the privilege to read your poem
and critique it.


nibbed
there's always a better reason to love
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#4
Thanks to both critics (so far), or three counting @nibbed1 and @nibbed2 Smile  .  (Seriously, @nibbed, both are appreciated, good to have both the first impression and the criticism.  Now I have something to go on for edits, but may wait for another...)

To both (particulary @Radetof.Yahska) - have vowed not to explain.  However, purely in the nature of a reference bridge over cultural differences,
John 14:2, King James Version.
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#5
Hi - the meter can't be faulted, and the iambs rush my reading forward, breathlessly galloping down the lines. I didn't realize your poem didn't rhyme until I got to 'shade'.

I've never before read a poetic description of how to untangle knots, on the physical level, and I like the analogy of the spiritual level, really well done.

Thanks for posting this!
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#6
I love a knot poem. Smile This one brings me along with it,  some notes below.

(07-31-2017, 10:58 AM)dukealien Wrote:  Untangling


When I was young my father told me how
when working through a snarl of tangled rope
to find an end, then lead it through each knot
until its other end shows all is well. "shows all is well" seems off at this point of the poem and is not a strong break, possibly "reveals its length" or something better that suits the meter.

He didn’t know he talked philosophy comma?
just practical instruction for his son I like philosophy/practical instruction.
and yet as guidance for the life of man " life of man" is bland, maybe a sorted life or well lived life, something along those lines.
it leaves most other systems in the shade. Nice sonics.

But I’m not him, with but one end to hold
in sight, the house of many mansions’  light.
My life’s a tangle but its earthly ends "but" seems wrong, maybe "with", then an adjustment below.
are fixed beyond a mind’s maneuvering. I like that this line is like math in the head, even when one is not talented enough for it it still can be achieved more slowly by the less skilled.

This means according to topology Big meh on this line, it must make sense to you but is a stopper that leads nowhere without an uncomfotable stretch for me.
there are no tangles, knots are never real. Yes to this.
Yet when I pull, the blob of curling snarls curling snarls is fun.
drags on as one, inscrutable and tight. Inscrutable and tight is nice.

My method - which can’t be original - I'm not sure if it matters that it's not original.
is finding loops, those teardrops out of which Love teardrops, visually and emotionally. Which stands out as a weak break in a poem of strong ones.
the tangle’s complex knots are woven hard:I like "woven hard".
choose one loop, if it’s single pull it through. Single is interesting here.

But if it joins an interlocked design -
cross, trefoil, valentine, or swastika -
trace each lobe of its pattern ‘til you find
a simple circuit acting as an end. All good, maybe m-dashes and I think "till" is preferred, you can check.

Pull out this master loop, the figure’s gone;
repeat this cogitation and release.
In time a wending line emerges, straight
and purely obvious, no knots or doubts. I like "purely obvious"; doubt spells it out, I'm not sure you need it but so far I like it anyway.

My father’s mansions being closed to me,
my goal is knowing, found simplicity. Not a fan of "knowing, found".

I hope at least one of my notes helps, thanks for the read.
billy wrote:welcome to the site. make it your own, wear it like a well loved slipper and wear it out. ella pleads:please click forum titles for posting guidelines, important threads. New poet? Try Poetic DevicesandWard's Tips

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#7
edit 1;


When I was young my father told me how
when working through a snarl of tangled rope
to find an end, then lead it through each knot
until its other end confirms you’re done.

He didn’t know he talked philosophy,
just practical instruction for his son
and yet as guidance for a worthy life
it leaves most other systems in the shade.

But I’m not him, with but one end to hold
in sight, the house of many mansions’  light.
My life’s a tangle with its earthly ends
both fixed beyond a mind’s maneuvering.

This means in theory nothing will be tied:
there are no tangles, knots are never real.
Yet when I pull, the blob of curling snarls
drags on as one, inscrutable and tight.

My method, learned on cable, hose, and cord
is finding loops, those teardrops out of which
the tangle’s complex knots are woven hard:
choose one loop, if it’s single pull it through.

But if it joins an interlocked design -
cross, trefoil, valentine, or swastika -
trace each lobe of its pattern ‘til you find
a simple circuit acting as an end.

Pull out this master loop, the figure’s gone;
repeat this cogitation and release.
In time a wending line emerges, straight
and purely obvious, no clumps or knots.

My father’s heaven being closed to me,
my goal is worldly, plain simplicity.


Thanks again to all critics!
feedback award Non-practicing atheist
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