The Dark Corridor

[heslopian]

"Wretched, ephemeral race, children of chance and tribulation, why do you force me to tell you the very thing which it would be most profitable for you not to hear? The very best thing is utterly beyond your reach: not to have been born, not to be, to be nothing. However, the second best thing for you is: to die soon." - Aristotle, Eudemos

"Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die,
Passing through nature to eternity." - William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 3

So this ceaseless going back.
The car broke down by the side of the road,
you walk on the hard shoulder in hopes
a house will soon appear,
a single light from one window,
like the light of the hospital room
you saw while exiting the womb.

We enter light. We enter dark.
The front door of the house. The back.
Walking in at morning prayers
and leaving at evensong.
All day we reflect on our first hours.
The butler showing us to seats,
then the offering of treats.

The mush, the milk, the bruised nipple,
the sustenance bestowed with love
then denied with tender hand
as we are left to forge our place,
continue the grand tradition of Life.
Moving through the endless halls,
destiny is grist for fools.

Look at the etchings on this door,
a thousand love poems, regrets,
the random bleatings of the pained,
the passionate mind still craving youth,
an innocence these leaves refute.
These leaves browning upon the porch,
proof that wane will each life's torch.

[Todd]

Hi Jack,

Great moments here. Let's walk through the poem some: I like the first quote. I don't know if the second quote adds anything that the first didn't give you.I don't think the poem needs the quotes to work which is what you hope for, you want just an enhancement which I think you accomplish.


So the ceaseless going back.

I kept thinking about this line. I have mixed feelings. First, I wanted to cut so then I decided that so was probably fine and thought that you could either cut the line entirely, or substitute this for the. I can see reasons for keeping the line this ceaseless going back between light and dark, but you do build the concept in the next two strophes.


The car broke down by the side of the road,
walking on the hard shoulder
in hopes a house will soon appear,
a single light from one window,
like the light of the hospital room
you saw while exiting the womb.

Okay, this is wonderful writing. I do think you may want to substitute walking with you walk the tense change may just sound better to my ear. I like that it's the hard shoulder. It says a lot about life. The house with the single light and the hope seems to point to the tension and tragedy of the human condition. Love those lines. On the last line it's a nice change up, I really like that this ceaseless moving and restlessness starts in the womb.

We enter light. We enter dark.
The front door of the house. The back.
Walking in at morning prayers
and leaving at evensong.
All day we reflect on our first hours there.
The butler showing us to seats,
then the offering of treats.

I like where you're taking this. Though I wonder if the second line would be better without the period and ending with or the back. On line 5 I wonder if you need there. I wonder who the butler is (the doctor delivering us maybe)


The mush, the milk, the bruised nipple,
the sustenance bestowed with love
then denied with tender hand
as we are left to forge our place,
continue the grand tradition of Life.
Moving through the endless halls,
destiny is grist for fools.


This is a solid strophe. I love the bruised nipple, the endless halls, and destiny being grist for fools. It holds together well.

Look at the etchings on this door,
a thousand love poems, regrets,
the random bleatings of the pained
and passionate mind still craving youth,
an innocence these leaves refute.
These leaves browning upon the porch,
proof that wane will each life's torch.

Maybe the refers of a thousand love poems. I like the repetition of these leaves. I liked them browning on the porch. I probably would the poem on the browning line Jack. The life's torch just feels too predictable for what you built here (imo).

I hope some of that will be helpful to you.

Best,

Todd

[heslopian]

Thank you for your kind, considered feedback Todd. The butler is indeed the doctor (or the midwife) in the second strophe's closing metaphor.
I like your idea about changing "the" to "this" in the first line. I'll make the edit once I've finished this.
Likewise with "you walk" instead of "walking" in the third and removing "there" at the end of the second strophe's fifth line.
Thanks again

P.S: Regarding the epigraphs, I wanted to balance the relentless nihilism of the passage from Aristotle with what I perceive as a tenderer view on death.

[billy]

personally, i think you give the reader to much with will and aristo. specially aristo.

"Wretched, ephemeral race, children of chance and tribulation, why do you force me to tell you the very thing which it would be most profitable for you not to hear? The very best thing is utterly beyond your reach: not to have been born, not to be, to be nothing. However, the second best thing for you is: to die soon." - Aristotle, Eudemos

"Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die,
Passing through nature to eternity." - William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 3

So this ceaseless going back. for me this is weak, it makes me spend to much time questioning
The car broke down by the side of the road,
you walk on the hard shoulder in hopes
a house will soon appear,
a single light from one window,
like the light of the hospital room
you saw while exiting the womb. i love the last three lines, fantastic image

We enter light. We enter dark.
The front door of the house. The back.
Walking in at morning prayers
and leaving at evensong. at first i thought the metaphor were being overdone but they're not, after a few reads i've come to really like them.
All day we reflect on our first hours.
The butler showing us to seats,
then the offering of treats. this line feels a little forced.

The mush, the milk, the bruised nipple,
the sustenance bestowed with love
then denied with tender hand
as we are left to forge our place,
continue the grand tradition of Life.
Moving through the endless halls,
destiny is grist for fools. this line has too much of an opinion for me compared to the unbiased views in the rest of the poem

Look at the etchings on this door,
a thousand love poems, regrets,
the random bleatings of the pained should it be bleating?
and passionate mind still craving youth, would 'the' work instead of 'and'
an innocence these leaves refute.
These leaves browning upon the porch,
proof that wane will each life's torch. feels a bit clunky (for me)

a good take on life and death, lot's to like about it. your imagery works well, as do your use of metaphor in the 2nd,
thanks for the read.

[heslopian]

Thanks for the kind words and feedback Bilbo.
I like your idea about "the pained, the passionate". I'll make the edit in a mo.
Yeah the very lust line is a real clunker. As soon as I can devise a better line which also keeps the form consistent I'll replace it.