07-07-2018, 10:19 PM (This post was last modified: 09-19-2018, 06:22 PM by RiverNotch.)
Pastoral
A countryside heavy with harvest, rugged fingers
Thrust out of fear and fire
Trembling about a scythe, the cold
A tick away: archetypes, points
Blossomed into lines
Reaped and reworked and printed and praised
More simply and swiftly forgotten,
Your red hair and my rough chin,
Hypostases to outlast the ousia that is us,
Clawing at the walls of the golden city.
Pastoral
A countryside heavy with harvest, rugged fingers
Thrust out of fear and fire
Trembling about a scythe,
The cold a tick away: types from an arche
Dissolving, space-time contracting
To anxiety's exclusion, to memory's conclusion,
To reincarnation: all form and image
The barren stock of words,
Points blossomed into lines
Reaped and reworked and printed and praised
More simply and swiftly forgotten,
Your red hair and my rough chin,
Hypostases to outlast the ousia that is us,
Clawing at the walls of the golden city---
Pastoral
A world without language, without context,
Without hidden messages, meanings too complex,
A world of pure creation: a countryside
Ready for harvest, a clasping hand
Thrust out of fear and fire, out of darkness and delight
(Abstractions from the past, cliched metaphors)
Time and space contracting to exclude memory,
To exclude anxiety: to include only creation.
Only the archetypal details shall remain relevant
Not as archetypes (for there shall be no arche) but as subjects
In and of themselves, hypostases within one and without one,
All communication as pure thought, pure feeling, pure action,
Points blossoming into lines, your red hair and my rough chin
Wordlessly crying out, "Genetheto phos!"
(07-07-2018, 10:19 PM)RiverNotch Wrote: Pastoral
apt title, imo. I get a sense that this poem is about communication and the creation of art (though other uses of "creation" in the poem could imply the cultivation of crops and use of livestock and whatnot) in the countryside. There's also the use of capitalizing the first letter of every line in this poem but, knowing that you've been around this site for a while and how people respond to that stuff, I'm willing to settle with the possibility that this was a conscious stylistic decision; the themes are dealt with in a sort of archaic fashion and talk about life when it was at its most pure.
A world without language, without context,
Without hidden messages, meanings too complex,
A world of pure creation: a countryside The above two lines seem too tell-y. What I'd start with is "A countryside ready for harvest..." but even then "ready for harvest isn't saying much imagery-wise; I'd expand on that and I'd also show the reader what a world without context, language, and hidden messages look like. I'm guessing that's what you're trying to accomplish after the colon, so I would scrap everything that came before that colon.
Ready for harvest, a clasping hand Can't make sense of "clasping hand"--what is it holding?
Thrust out of fear and fire, out of darkness and delight Interesting imagery, but I fail to see its importance.
(Abstractions from the past, cliched metaphors)
Time and space contracting to exclude memory, This line is where I start to think about dimensions. The way you describe it seems as if this is all happening in real time, as if the reader is able to experience the third dimension that they live in actively regressing to the first. After reading through this poem a couple times, I feel as if this is done through writing or sketching with a good old-fashioned pencil and paper. My gripe here though, is that I feel that not much is done to link this idea to the bucolic setting I thought your poem was aiming for.
To exclude anxiety: to include only creation.
Only the archetypal details shall remain relevant
Not as archetypes (for there shall be no arche) but as subjects
In and of themselves, hypostases within one and without one,
All communication as pure thought, pure feeling, pure action, If you have worked to more strongly convey the purity of the countryside through imagery in my first comment on the poem, I don't think you would need "pure thought, pure feeling, pure action", and instead you could reword the line as "All communication as points blossoming into lines...". If you ever decide to go this route, I'd omit "all".
Points blossoming into lines, your red hair and my rough chin I like the sentiment of "blossoming" but I feel as though you could do better.
Wordlessly crying out, "Genetheto phos!" This reads as "your red hair and my rough chin wordlessly crying out..." which I don't see how can be possible. You mention "wordlessly" but the crying out part still manages to throw me off. And to add to that, they're crying out a biblical phrase in Greek and I'm just confused at that point. I'm not sure if I'm missing any references to any works of literature besides the Bible or what. What I do understand, is that the N was able to create something (points blossoming into lines) in a place where life is simple and everything, including feelings, are genuine. The "Genetheto phos!" seems unnecessary.
A world without language, without context,
Without hidden messages, meanings too complex,
A world of pure creation: a countryside
Ready for harvest, a clasping hand only the land, perhaps, speaks it s own language
Thrust out of fear and fire, out of darkness and delight
(Abstractions from the past, cliched metaphors) all cliche should be burnt to the ground, not as a stack of books, but as a stack of paper-clips
Time and space contracting to exclude memory,
To exclude anxiety: to include only creation. this reminds me of kantian pre(as opposed to post)modernism----the role of SYNTHESIS in his Categorical Critique/Imperative
Only the archetypal details shall remain relevant again; the post-modernist sees structure, or the tearing down of structure as the only relevant creative reference
Not as archetypes (for there shall be no arche) but as subjects
In and of themselves, hypostases within one and without one, hypostases::most def. a 10 Trillion dollar Word
All communication as pure thought, pure feeling, pure action,
Points blossoming into lines, your red hair and my rough chin
Wordlessly crying out, "Genetheto phos!"
I find this poem earth-shattering, disruptive and, ironically- memorable, yet exceedingly relevant to the very moment, only the horizon ahead and in view, and abvolutely nothing of concern or anxiety producing thoughts and memories behind------------WITH WARP-DRIVE ARE THERE ANY REAR-VIEW MIRRORS
(07-07-2018, 10:19 PM)RiverNotch Wrote: Pastoral An excellent tittle I think.
A world without language, without context, I would leave out "without language' as the poem as a whole conveys that without stating it outright.
Without hidden messages, meanings too complex,
A world of pure creation: a countryside Great. fits nicely with the pastoral , idealized theme
Ready for harvest, a clasping hand "harvest ' does not fit here in my opinion . I don't see how harvesting could be a creative act or one without context of background. Maybe replace this with "sowing" or leave it out and make this line just "a clasping hand"
Thrust out of fear and fire, out of darkness and delight
(Abstractions from the past, cliched metaphors)
Time and space contracting to exclude memory,
To exclude anxiety: to include only creation. Nice shift to a cosmic landscape
Only the archetypal details shall remain relevant
Not as archetypes (for there shall be no arche) but as subjects
In and of themselves, hypostases within one and without one, Again, I would remove some words here"subjects in and of themselves" is not necessary.
All communication as pure thought, pure feeling, pure action, Maybe just "all communication pure"
Points blossoming into lines, your red hair and my rough chin
Wordlessly crying out, "Genetheto phos!" This ties it together nicely, but I would remove "wordlessly".
I love the concept of this poem- if I'm reading it correctly- the reference to pastorals and the notion that while the pure, unhindered communication conveyed is ideal, all ideals are ultimately false. I think cutting it down a bit as I've noted above could give it more power.
Thanks for the feedback! This is a tough one. I attempted to really lean in on abstract thoughts, reducing imagery in some parts and just letting the stodgy rhythm of jargon speak for itself; it's that first action i might have slipped up with, as alexorande noted. Of course, a much bigger problem with this is just how good my thoughts are on the first place, if they're strong or novel enough to withstand being bared in such a piece in the first place. Anyway, more specific responses.
alexorande --- you've got better observations on how i should structure this than i had while mulling over the unpublished version. i wrote the ending in a very different state of mind than from when i wrote the three quatrains. i agree that i could have done better with the "blossoming", and that a stronger substitute is needed for the Greek, and not just in wording. though i do think "with your red hair and my rough chin / wordlessly crying out", because of its utter strangeness and its connection to the previous sentiments, is worth keeping.
thunderembargo --- see, the goal of this piece is in large part to be ridiculous, but to be serious in its ridiculousness, and at any rate, if i'm reading your crit right, some of your attempts at humor don't really work. if all you got from the piece is the ridiculousness, fine, but i can't take your crit with much good faith if you don't take the piece with the same. that, or you really think i'm that knowledgeable, which i might be, but the point is your crit needs more elaboration.
accapella --- welcome to the site! i'll think about your suggestions on how to make this that much punchier.
Sorry it's been a while. In my experience, baring abstract thoughts in lieu of imagery or a mix of both can typically make for a wordy poem. If this is what you intend, then I do think that edge of ridiculousness that you're going for could be perfect here, but I think that then it would be in need of a hint of awareness or awareness of unawareness (if that makes sense). Hope you continue on this piece!
A countryside heavy with harvest, rugged fingers
Thrust out of fear and fire
Trembling about a scythe,
The cold a tick away: types from an arche I don't think "types from an arche" adds anything missing from "archetypes" - I would just use that.
Dissolving, space-time contracting
To anxiety's exclusion, to memory's conclusion,
To reincarnation: all form and image
The barren stock of words, This stanza is the weakest point of the poem, I would cut it entirely. This reads to me to be explaining what the other three stanzas are about (in a fairly convoluted manner) - I think they are strong enough without this explanation.
Points blossomed into lines
Reaped and reworked and printed and praised
More simply and swiftly forgotten, Excellent.
Your red hair and my rough chin,
Hypostases to outlast the ousia that is us,
Clawing at the walls of the golden city--- Wonderful image to end on.
Pastoral
A world without language, without context,
Without hidden messages, meanings too complex,
A world of pure creation: a countryside
Ready for harvest, a clasping hand
Thrust out of fear and fire, out of darkness and delight
(Abstractions from the past, cliched metaphors)
Time and space contracting to exclude memory,
To exclude anxiety: to include only creation.
Only the archetypal details shall remain relevant
Not as archetypes (for there shall be no arche) but as subjects
In and of themselves, hypostases within one and without one,
All communication as pure thought, pure feeling, pure action,
Points blossoming into lines, your red hair and my rough chin
Wordlessly crying out, "Genetheto phos!"
I really like this poem, with the exception of the second stanza.
To my read, the first stanza is about survival. The third and fourth stanza's are about why we try to survive, art and love, and the creation of something bigger than ourselves. It's quite lovely.
Hi River, a lot to like here,
except verse two. I'm with WJames
on that. I don't think there are sufficient
hints as to 'ridiculousness' for me (unless
the capitals starting each line are a clue),
so the 'philosophy' seems only to 'accidentally'
hit the mark.
Just a suggestion: A countryside heavy with harvest, rugged fingers thrust out of fear and fire, trembling
[before] a scythe,
Points blossomed into lines
- I don't think this line works well (can't quite
see lines as blossom), though the idea does. Reaped and reworked, printed, praised more. simply and swiftly forgotten,
Your red hair, my rough chin,
- this seems a bit too personal to be meaningful
to a general reader (like me). that is us, Clawing at the walls of the golden city
09-19-2018, 06:20 PM (This post was last modified: 09-19-2018, 06:24 PM by RiverNotch.)
Thanks for the feedback. The piece has definitely shifted away from my original goals, hopefully for the better. Now I'm just unsure about how the first seven lines are constructed.
