Sam's Song

[Ecesis]

Poor sam's mind,
has begun to leap away;
what urges his kop,
to the fields of no vision lay.

A fatigued mother,
leers at the wild eye,
wherein birls the fierce shine,
only seen in the evening sky.

What lures behind with dire grasp,
and turns this seaman's only helm;
for far away is port or home,
and long lost is a moral throne.

Calibre once brought so dear a smile,
to parley warmth o'er cold vein;
to mount a precipice and be of padre use,
in joys well hid in antique hue.

Why the hope of plea,
keeps a iterate memorial— 
cold to eschew,
and only groping the depth,
in the never new.    

[Richard]

Hey Ecesis,
I think you're trying hard here to be poetic, but I don't know if you always succeed. I'll go into more detail below:

Poor sam's mind,-I've read this poem multiple times now, and I still don't know who Sam is. If he's some sort of historical figure, may be include a last name.
has begun to leap away;
what urges his kop, -The word "kop" seems like an archaic word. I would suggest using a different word.
to the fields of no vision lay.

A fatigued mother,
leers at the wild eye,
wherein birls the fierce shine,
only seen in the evening sky.

What lures behind with dire grasp,
and turns this seaman's only helm;
for far away is port or home,
and long lost is a moral throne.-What is a "moral throne"? I would suggest explaining this image more.

Calibre once brought so dear a smile,
to parley warmth o'er cold vein; -Why "o'er" and not "over"?
to mount a precipice and be of padre use,
in joys well hid in antique hue.

Why the hope of plea,
keeps a iterate memorial— 
cold to eschew,
and only groping the depth,
in the never new. -Here's the thing with rhyming: if you are going to rhyme, you need to utilize longer lines. Short lines that rhyme are usually associated with nursery rhymes or comedic poetry.    

My biggest suggestions would be to edit this poem by dropping the rhymes and rewording it in spots so the language isn't so archaic. I look forward to seeing where you take this poem from here.

Keep writing,
Richard

[Ecesis]

thanks for the detailed reply richard. no not historical, just a projected character to base the writing around. okay, well i considered morality as a throne to be proud of, or considered a personal height of some sought; being lost to him. haha, yes your right i'll use over.
im going to ask you, is it understandable ?

i'll make a big edit then hopefully repost it sometime soon.
what do you think of symbolism in general ?
because i have another poem called "the monk" in the mild to moderate critique forms and i was slandered for my tortured symbolism, i was wondering if you could go take a look and tell me what you think?
i'll be sure to check some of your work.
the beauty of reciprocation.

thanks again richard

[Richard]

Hey Ecesis,
There is definitely symbolism in this poem. It's just a little all over the place, so that makes it a tad hard to follow completely. You said, "i considered morality as a throne to be proud of". That is an interesting idea. Why not use that idea as the focus for your edit for this poem? Forget about the ship and mother imagery, and focus on just communicating how morality is like a throne you're (or Sam) can be proud of.

Just a thought,
Richard

[Ecesis]

hey richard, oh that's very wise. i see what i can do with something like that. thanks for pointing that out.

[billy]

hi ecesis, if you rhyme, make them perfect, some of your rhymes don't rhyme. the language could work if it were a period piece but if it is it's hard to ascertain. a suggestion would be to be less ambiguous and get to some kind of point the reader can see, i'm no wiser to who sam is. also watch out for inverted syntax as in line 4. it only detracts from the reading. i did get a feel of pirates but only because of parlay and the pirates of the Caribbean

[nibbed]

Hi, ecesis! Welcome here.
Strange poem, maybe the title started me off wrong. I thought about music being played at Sam's Club, a warehouse merchant here in the USA, and then it kind of stuck. Then I thought about an Arab named Sam, who I likely never met, but whose name floated around town when I was very young. Then I thought Sam short for Samantha. I have difficulty with titles sometimes, but I understand the importance in it making a quirk or being subject, and so it seems mystery to me though it might be vital to the personal thoughts of the writer.




Poor sam's mind,                                                                    -is the comma necessary for break or pause, does it bring more drama?
has begun to leap away;
what urges his kop,
to the fields of no vision lay.

A fatigued mother,
leers at the wild eye,                                      
wherein birls the fierce shine,
only seen in the evening sky.                                                  -no "the"

What lures behind with dire grasp,                                           -either a comma or "and" or eliminate both
and turns this seaman's only helm;
for far away is port or home,
and long lost is a moral throne.                                                -I want a pronoun here, don't know why

Calibre once brought so dear a smile,                                       -Calibre an interesting, thought out, alternative, well caught.
to parley warmth o'er cold vein;                                               -I'm confusing parley with parlay
to mount a precipice and be of padre use,
in joys well hid in antique hue.                                                  -clues exclusive to certain readers or just some sort of misery?

Why the hope of plea,
keeps a iterate memorial—                                                       "an"
cold to eschew,
and only groping the depth,                                                     I don't know why I want to take away "the"
in the never new. 



I have also tried writing poems in the "Old English" or whatever it may be properly called. I read some old poetry and I wonder if I will ever get it, many hymns are written in such a way, and it is so lovely and poetic. Keep trying if it is something you enjoy. I apologize if my critique has not been helpful. Best wishes to you.


nibbed

[Ecesis]

sorry iv'e been inactive for awhile now. thanks nibbed your comments seem pleasing to me. the way you analysed has a sense of serenity, a nice navigational tool. haha, thats funny just a name i chose really. but im glad it sparked some places and themes wholly relational to your experiences. yes yes, "the" at the end is a point to discard, your right. i agree, i love the likes of Torquato Tasso, Blake, Aristophanes, Shelley, Keats, sappho, Francesco Colonna, Donne. they seem to have a thread of blood they all share and have the poetic beauty only seen in greatness. its a challenge, iv'e noticed through some "critical" voices that they see its an old way, rugged, worn and out of date but i just can't seem to take their word for it haha, maybe idolised bias on my part haha.

regard lewis

[rowens]

A fatigued mother
leers at the wild eye
wherein birls the fierce shine,
only seen in the evening sky.

And only groping the depth,
in the never new,  


You could masquerade with that, for a while.
And come up with something good for it.

But with the rest of the poem, you're word crazy:
you got bit by a feral werewolf poet.
You got it in the blood but not your mind.    And you have to use your mind to make sense.  To control the hunger and the rage.
 Master the matter, and realize these poets you mention wrote in different languages, and have little in common outside of bad translations.

But if this is the way your mind works, you have to also make your mind
work

with your own poetry,

and not just keep imitating your pale and bland misreadings of these nameable poets.