They crawled deep

[Mark A Becker]

As the saying goes, "good poets borrow, great poets steal."  Well, shitty poets can steal, too, and I'm an example. The following edited piece was inspired by a poem called "Homo Naledi", by Tim (aka TqB).  Many thanks Tim!

They crawled deep
into caves to return their dead,
guided by faltering firelight
to the original dark.

Perhaps they then quarreled
and clawed over scraps
as hungry predators listened
at the entrance.

In this distant flicker of humanity,
huddled behind the protection
of fire, they scrawled shadows of language
upon cave walls.

What prehensile jabber echoed
back to their dead?
They expected no God, no Savior,
only sunrise.

[TranquillityBase]

As the saying goes, "good poets borrow, great poets steal."  Well, shitty poets can steal, too, and I'm an example. The following edited piece was inspired by a poem called "Homo Naledi", by Tim (aka TqB).  Many thanks Tim!

They crawled deep
into caves to return their dead,
guided by faltering firelight          i like faltering better than my flickering, may do some stealing of my own
to the original dark.

Perhaps they then quarreled        don't like that perhaps, perhaps that's why I made mine present tense, so i could make some leaps
and clawed over scraps
as hungry predators listened
at the entrance.

In this distant flicker of humanity,
huddled behind the protection
of fire, they scrawled shadows of language
upon cave walls.                                            like this a lot

What prehensile jabber echoed
back to their dead?
They expected no God, no Savior,
only sunrise.                                  I like the question combined with my last two lines

I absolve you.  Pig Pen is my only publishing house.

I always gravitate toward anything archeological.  Although the study of ancient humans has its own -ology which I don't remember the word for, but you know what I mean.

[Mark A Becker]

Hey Tim-
Thanks for the inspiration and the absolution. I think those two go well together. I have further edited my version of your poem.  I did drop 'perhaps'- it wasn't adding anything.

YES- your present tense creates an element of immediacy, and that's a good thing. I thought if I switched tenses that my thievery wouldn't be so obvious.

Also, I only 'publish' my poetry here, as well.  I got so many pieces in my personal collection now that I probably ought to do something more with them. But first I need to get one of those circular tokens that has 'to it' engraved on it- you know, 'a round to it'.

Oh- the word you're looking for is 'anthroplogy'.  Somehow pulled that outta my disheveled head.

My latest version is below, though I'm still having a bitch of a time with precise word choices, and line breaks so I still don't consider it as completed. I'd put it in the INTENSE workshop if it wasn't so obviously stolen. (Though I still may):

They crawled deep
into caves to return their dead
to the original dark,
guided by faltering firelight.

They quarreled and clawed
over scraps as hungry predators
listened
at the entrance.

In a prehensile flicker of humanity,
sparked by the magic protection
of fire, they left shadows of language
scrawled on cave walls.

Guttural mantras echoed back
to their dead.
Did they expect some God, some Savior,
or only sunrise?

As the saying goes, "good poets borrow, great poets steal."  Well, shitty poets can steal, too, and I'm an example. The following edited piece was inspired by a poem called "Homo Naledi", by Tim (aka TqB).  Many thanks Tim!

They crawled deep
into caves to return their dead,
guided by faltering firelight          i like faltering better than my flickering, may do some stealing of my own
to the original dark.

Perhaps they then quarreled        don't like that perhaps, perhaps that's why I made mine present tense, so i could make some leaps
and clawed over scraps
as hungry predators listened
at the entrance.

In this distant flicker of humanity,
huddled behind the protection
of fire, they scrawled shadows of language
upon cave walls.                                            like this a lot

What prehensile jabber echoed
back to their dead?
They expected no God, no Savior,
only sunrise.                                  I like the question combined with my last two lines

I absolve you.  Pig Pen is my only publishing house.

I always gravitate toward anything archeological.  Although the study of ancient humans has its own -ology which I don't remember the word for, but you know what I mean.

[TranquillityBase]

[quote="Mark A Becker" pid='262364' dateline='1670882307']


They crawled deep
into caves to return their dead
to the original dark,
guided by faltering firelight.

They quarreled and clawed
over scraps as hungry predators
listened
at the entrance.                            yes, definitely one more detail here

In a prehensile flicker of humanity,
sparked by the magic protection
of fire, they left shadows of language
scrawled on cave walls.  great stanza

Guttural mantras echoed back
to their dead.                                         These lines give me pause.  I like laughter myself, but you've taken the poem into your own path
Did they expect some God, some Savior,
or only sunrise?                                       and of course, this is the opposite of mine, I think.

By George!**  He's hijacked my poem and.....made it positive  .

**"By (God and Saint) George" is an old English oath invoked immediately before charging into battle as late as World War I. 

I think when we finish, we should send them to the anthropologist who made the discovery.

[Mark A Becker]

I think when we finish, we should send them to the anthropologist who made the discovery.

Hey Tim-
I think I’ll name my version “Rising Star” as a nod to that discovery in South Africa. That title seems apropos for the subject.
Yes, my ending is about a 180 from yours: yours a declarative statement, mine a question (to abruptly bring the reader into the scene). Yours ends in their present, mine in ours.
Don’t know if Berger is even the right person to send these poems to, but I’m game.
Mark

---

Hey Tim-
Thanks for the inspiration and the absolution. I think those two go well together. I have further edited my version of your poem.  I did drop 'perhaps'- it wasn't adding anything.

YES- your present tense creates an element of immediacy, and that's a good thing. I thought if I switched tenses that my thievery wouldn't be so obvious.

Also, I only 'publish' my poetry here, as well.  I got so many pieces in my personal collection now that I probably ought to do something more with them. But first I need to get one of those circular tokens that has 'to it' engraved on it- you know, 'a round to it'.

Oh- the word you're looking for is 'anthroplogy'.  Somehow pulled that outta my disheveled head.

My latest version is below, though I'm still having a bitch of a time with precise word choices, and line breaks so I still don't consider it as completed. I'd put it in the INTENSE workshop if it wasn't so obviously stolen. (Though I still may):

They crawled deep
into caves to return their dead
to the original dark,
guided by faltering firelight.

They quarreled and clawed
over scraps as hungry predators
listened
at the entrance.

In a prehensile flicker of humanity,
sparked by the magic protection
of fire, they breathed shadows
of language upon cave walls.

Guttural mantras echoed back
to their dead.
Did they expect some God, some Savior,
or only sunrise?

As the saying goes, "good poets borrow, great poets steal."  Well, shitty poets can steal, too, and I'm an example. The following edited piece was inspired by a poem called "Homo Naledi", by Tim (aka TqB).  Many thanks Tim!

They crawled deep
into caves to return their dead,
guided by faltering firelight          i like faltering better than my flickering, may do some stealing of my own
to the original dark.

Perhaps they then quarreled        don't like that perhaps, perhaps that's why I made mine present tense, so i could make some leaps
and clawed over scraps
as hungry predators listened
at the entrance.

In this distant flicker of humanity,
huddled behind the protection
of fire, they scrawled shadows of language
upon cave walls.                                            like this a lot

What prehensile jabber echoed
back to their dead?
They expected no God, no Savior,
only sunrise.                                  I like the question combined with my last two lines

I absolve you.  Pig Pen is my only publishing house.

I always gravitate toward anything archeological.  Although the study of ancient humans has its own -ology which I don't remember the word for, but you know what I mean.

[busker]

As the saying goes, "good poets borrow, great poets steal."  Well, shitty poets can steal, too, and I'm an example. The following edited piece was inspired by a poem called "Homo Naledi", by Tim (aka TqB).  Many thanks Tim!

They crawled deep
into caves to return their dead,
guided by faltering firelight
to the original dark.

Perhaps they then quarreled
and clawed over scraps
as hungry predators listened
at the entrance.

In this distant flicker of humanity,
huddled behind the protection
of fire, they scrawled shadows of language
upon cave walls.

What prehensile jabber echoed
back to their dead?
They expected no God, no Savior,
only sunrise.

The thing that I miss, other than the original’s use of the present tense, which lent a certain eyewitness like quality to the poem, is ‘brains the size of oranges’
I recall thst you didn’t like it in the original, but it’s a vital, factual link to the unique physical dimensions of H Naledi that made their troglodytic existence possible. 
Without googling H Naledi, the reader would be confused as to why they buried their dead in caves and crawled in them…indeed, they might as well be Australopitheci or Homo Erecti 

They probably didn’t even have to crawl

[Mark A Becker]

The thing that I miss, other than the original’s use of the present tense, which lent a certain eyewitness like quality to the poem, is ‘brains the size of oranges’
I recall thst you didn’t like it in the original, but it’s a vital, factual link to the unique physical dimensions of H Naledi that made their troglodytic existence possible. 
Without googling H Naledi, the reader would be confused as to why they buried their dead in caves and crawled in them…indeed, they might as well be Australopitheci or Homo Erecti 

They probably didn’t even have to crawl

Thanks busker-
The original poem led me to a version that I must now reconsider entirely.  I have since done some research on homo naledi and have found that I injected speculation that does not accurately reflect the (possible) special nature of these fossils. As Tim wrote, and you affirm, the brain size of homo naledi is THE crucial fact, apparently, as it seems to throw an chink in the thinking that purposeful behavior is dependent upon the evolution/size of the brain. Behavior such as the (proposed) intentional disposal of the dead.

As far as I know, a truly odd feature of this long gone species is that their bones appear in the deepest recesses of a cave (the Dinaledi Chamber), and would have required these individuals to squeeze through a 10 inch gap (Superman Crawl), to then climb a 40 foot cave feature (the Dragon's Back) in order to even access the 50 foot drop (The Chute), at the bottom of which their remains are found. And do this in complete darkness.  Did they use firelight to illuminate their way? Did they deposit their kind on purpose? Did they just wander too deep while exploring, and then fall 50 feet to their demise?

All speculation aside, the fact that fossil remains of these very small brained homo naledi appear in the deepest recesses of the Rising Star cave system in South Africa is, in itself, very fascinating.  I would not have looked deeper into this subject had it not been for Tim's poem, and I love that about the way he writes. That said, my version must go back to the drawing board due to the inaccuracies within it. Poetic license is one thing, but accuracy is important.

[TranquillityBase]

I think when we finish, we should send them to the anthropologist who made the discovery.

Hey Tim-
I think I’ll name my version “Rising Star” as a nod to that discovery in South Africa. That title seems apropos for the subject.
Yes, my ending is about a 180 from yours: yours a declarative statement, mine a question (to abruptly bring the reader into the scene).  Yours ends in their present, mine in ours.
Don’t know if Berger is even the right person to send these poems to, but I’m game.
Mark

I'm curious to do it; but I may read more about him first, if I can.  I think of it as a novel form of fan mail that even a poetry atheist might enjoy.