Posts: 2,602
Threads: 303
Joined: Feb 2017
A tale that hung thereby (or poor Emmet's tale)
Up came the blast to meet we four, hastening down the scree,
And each within his bones felt dread
When down below the land fell dead
And buried, deep; in cloud so dense
Our vision failed. We could not sense
Enough to judge which way was whence
Within that vap'rous sea.
From howl on howl there came a roar as of a great release.
We braced ourselves against cold stones
And tensed our sinews, wedged our bones,
Against the tearing wind's wild veer.
Hell's hounds broke loose and mortal fear
Convinced us that our end was near
But with it, promised peace.
Still rising yet, in mighty gusts, the air throbbed with my heart;
Then each in turn shed tears for life,
Old memories of love and strife.
Our prayers, sucked out in precious breath,
Were surely meant; as sure as death
Comes to us all, yet worries less
Until we needs must part.
We clamped down tight in fear and fright of what the fates might bring.
The air had turned and rodding rain
Became steel shafts; and such the pain
Upon our cold and exposed brows,
Resolved we then to tell of how
We lived through this. We made a vow,
Then all began to sing.
Our grip on life was holding yet, though Emmet's voice grew shrill.
A deep and chill foreboding rose,
Whilst in our hearts our life blood froze.
From far away a rushing scream,
As of the horror in a dream,
Bore down on us, a threat unseen,
That tested each man's will.
The very land beneath us shook and trembled deep and low
And we, prostrate on scavenged rock
Felt every tremor, every shock
As all around dark earth slid free,
And yielding to God's gravity,
Assumed a strange fluidity:
A fearsome, fateful flow.
Above us screeched the mighty wind, an endless dire lament.
To left and right flowed liquid land,
Encroaching, yet no man could stand,
Nor raise himself up to his knees,
Nor lift a finger to appease
His God, impossible to please,
By prayer or sacrament.
Yet pray we did, each to himself, as cold cut through our bones.
The words were formed of breathless sound
Anguished by terror all around;
And all our hopes were much the same,
That by accepting equal blame
We would, sans hubris and disdain,
Be guided safely home.
Drowned out by hail that now hurled down, our prayers were good as sin.
The rolling wall of earth and grit
Began to wear us, bit by bit.
Our fingers, frozen, failed to grip
Upon the scree. We knew to slip
Would bring and end to this last trip
And death would take us in.
The first, poor Emmet, lost his hold and wailing slipped from sight.
His face a mask of terror, pale
And bloodied by the gritty hail,
Transfixed us three as he slid by,
We three (who cannot, will not die)
In silence , vowed to death defy
And for poor Emmet.. fight!
The rope, once stiff and frozen hard, now jerked and snagged and flailed.
Poor Emmet, though now lost to view
By weight and pull still lived. We knew
That only moments had he left
Before sucked in to mud filled cleft,
Before of life he fell bereft;
We could not , would not fail.
Blaygrave screamed out "ROCKS ABOVE!", and pointed, mimed and waved.
McKenny gripped the taught raw line
And plucked it hard to send a sign.
I felt the tug and turned to look,
Good that I did, the mountain shook,
And by his friendship and by luck
I leapt and so was saved.
Great boulders crashed around the ledge and hurtled overhead.
We clung on to to the iron hard cord
And damned the Devil and the Lord.
And all the while poor Emmet swung
On that long rope, in fear he hung,
No hope of help from lowered rung,
Believing all were dead.
The wind had peaked but angered gusts upon our perch now slammed.
Yet by the nature of the fight
We felt an easing, then saw light
Flirt with the mist that swirled on high,
A glint of sun in smoking sky;
Then brighter till it sored the eye
And through our tears saw land.
Rain softened as the wind resigned, as though to destined fate.
McKenny hauled Blaygrave upright
I grasped them both and held them tight.
Elation turned to sickening dread
As slowly crept we to the edge
And peered down from our puny ledge
To see poor Emmet's state.
There he swayed encased in clay, arms hanging, dripping blood.
No more like death had any seen
Nor lived through such and yet still been
Alive and quick to thank his Lord
With grateful, humble, whispered word
That surely all the world had heard:
A prayer to brotherhood.
We sit now in this warming place, poor Emmet sleeps away.
We speak each of our inner fears
And these are mine, through gladdened tears.
The others will have thoughts to tell
Of that grave day poor Emmet fell
And how through grace all turned out well;
Though Emmet will not say.
Tectak
2011
Up came the blast to meet we four, as we hastened down the scree,
And each within his bones felt dread
When down below the land fell dead
And buried, deep; in cloud so dense
That eyes lost sight and could not sense
Enough to judge which way was whence
Within that vaporous sea.
From howl on howl there came a roar as of a great release.
We braced ourselves against cold stones
And tensed our sinews, wedged our bones,
Against the tearing wind's wild veer.
Hell's hounds broke loose and mortal fear
Convinced us each our end was near
And with it blessed peace.
But rising still, in mighty gusts, the air throbbed with my heart;
Then each in turn shed tears for life,
Old memories of love and strife.
Our prayers, sucked out in precious breath,
Were surely meant; as sure as death
Comes to us all, yet worries less
Until we needs must part.
We clamped down tight in fear and fright of what the fates would bring.
The air had turned and rodding rain
Steel shafts became; and such the pain
Upon our cold and exposed brows
Resolved we each to tell of how
We lived through this. We made a vow,
Then all began to sing.
The grip on life was holding yet, though Emmet's voice grew shrill.
A deep and chill foreboding rose;
Whilst in our hearts our life blood froze.
From far away a rushing scream,
As of the horror in a dream,
Bore down on us, a threat unseen,
That tested each man's will.
The very land beneath us shook and trembled deep and low
And we, prostrate on scavenged rock
Felt every tremor, every shock
As all around dark earth slid free,
And yielding to God's gravity,
Assumed a strange fluidity:
A fearsome, fateful flow.
Above us screeched the mighty wind, an endless sad lament.
To left and right flowed liquid land,
Encroaching, yet no man could stand,
Nor raise himself up to his knees,
Nor lift a finger to appease
His God, impossible to please,
By prayer or sacrament.
Yet pray we did, each to himself, as cold cut through our bones.
The words were formed of breathless sound
Anguished by terror all around;
And all our hopes were much the same,
That we should each accept the blame
As if sans hubris and disdane
We would be safely home.
Drowned out by hail that now hurled down, our prayers were good as sin.
The rolling wall of earth and grit
Began to wear us, bit by bit.
Our fingers, frozen, failed to grip
Upon the scree. We knew to slip
Would bring and end to this last trip
And death would take us in.
The first, poor Emmet, lost the hold and wailing slipped from sight.
His face a mask of terror, pale
And bloodied by the gritty hail,
Transfixed us three as he slid by,
We three (who cannot, will not die)
In silence , vowed to death defy
And for poor Emmet.. fight!
The rope, once stiff and frozen hard, now jerked and snagged and flailed.
Poor Emmet, though now lost to view
By weight and pull still lived. We knew
That only moments had he left
Before sucked in to mud filled cleft
Before of life he fell bereft,
We could not , would not fail.
Blaygrave screamed out "ROCKS ABOVE!", and pointed, mimed and waved.
McKenny gripped the taught raw line
And plucked it hard to send a sign.
I felt the tug and turned to look,
Good that I did, the mountain shook,
And by his friendship and by luck
I leapt and so was saved.
Great boulders crashed around the ledge and hurtled overhead.
We clung on to to the iron hard cord
And damned the Devil and the Lord.
And all the while poor Emmet swung
On that long rope, in fear he hung,
No hope of help from lowered rung,
Believing all were dead.
The wind now peaked and angered gusts upon our perch now slammed
Yet by the nature of the fight
We felt an easing, then saw light.
Flirt with the mist that swirled on high,
A glint of sun in smoking sky;
Then brighter till it sored the eye
And through our tears saw land.
Rain softened as the wind resigned, as though to destined fate.
McKenny hauled Blaygrave upright
I grasped them both and held them tight.
Elation turned to sickening dread
As slowly crept we to the edge
And peered down from our puny ledge
To see poor Emmet's state.
There he swayed encased in clay, arms hanging, dripping blood.
No more like death had any seen
Nor lived through such and yet still been
Alive and quick to thank his Lord
With quiet grateful, humble word
That surely all the world had heard:
A prayer to brotherhood.
We sit now in this warming place, poor Emmet sleeps away.
We speak each of our inner fears
And these are mine, through gladdened tears.
The others will have thoughts to tell
Of that grave day poor Emmet fell
And how through grace all turned out well;
Though Emmet will not say.
Tectak
2011
Posts: 1,568
Threads: 317
Joined: Jun 2011
Good morning Tectak -- for the most part this is a very effective piece of narrative, with good solid meter. There are a few instances of rhymes forcing inversions of syntax, which are usually avoidable and make the reading seem much more natural, however the poem does flow quite well and keeps interest right through to the end.
(02-08-2012, 11:09 PM)tectak Wrote: A tale that hung thereby (or poor Emmet's tale)
Up came the blast to meet we four, as we hastened down the scree,
And each within his bones felt dread -- two lines of inverted syntax in a row feel contrived, you might try "Within his bones each man felt dread"
When down below the land fell dead
And buried, deep; in cloud so dense
That eyes lost sight and could not sense -- "eyes lost sight" seems a waste of words, with the implied association of eyes and sight. Personally I would try for a stronger image here
Enough to judge which way was whence
Within that vaporous sea. -- very Coleridge 
From howl on howl there came a roar as of a great release.
We braced ourselves against cold stones -- "cold stones" does put a lot of consonant combinations together, creating a bit of awkwardness, though it's not metrically incorrect
And tensed our sinews, wedged our bones,
Against the tearing wind's wild veer. -- similar awkwardness with "wind's wild veer"
Hell's hounds broke loose and mortal fear -- a couple of cliches in this line that weaken the image
Convinced us each our end was near -- you do use "each" a lot, so much so that it seems a filler word
And with it blessed peace.
But rising still, in mighty gusts, the air throbbed with my heart;
Then each in turn shed tears for life,
Old memories of love and strife.
Our prayers, sucked out in precious breath,
Were surely meant; as sure as death
Comes to us all, yet worries less
Until we needs must part. -- this entire stanza is excellent
We clamped down tight in fear and fright of what the fates would bring. -- the internal rhyme of tight and fright here seems (dare I say it) trite -- personally I'd replace tight
The air had turned and rodding rain
Steel shafts became; and such the pain -- I'm not sure there's any need for the inverted syntax of "steel shafts became", as "became steel shafts" keeps the meter and I don't think the assonance adds anything much here
Upon our cold and exposed brows -- "exposed" falls awkwardly, with the emphasis on the first syllable -- the only alternative I can think of at the moment is "naked", which doesn't quite give the same connotation.
Resolved we each to tell of how -- there's that each again
We lived through this. We made a vow,
Then all began to sing.
The grip on life was holding yet, though Emmet's voice grew shrill.
A deep and chill foreboding rose;
Whilst in our hearts our life blood froze. -- "life blood" is rather cliched
From far away a rushing scream,
As of the horror in a dream,
Bore down on us, a threat unseen,
That tested each man's will. -- is "tested" a strong enough word here?
The very land beneath us shook and trembled deep and low
And we, prostrate on scavenged rock
Felt every tremor, every shock
As all around dark earth slid free,
And yielding to God's gravity,
Assumed a strange fluidity: -- nice rhyme set
A fearsome, fateful flow. -- to avoid overdoing the alliteration, you might reverse fearsome and fateful here
Above us screeched the mighty wind, an endless sad lament. -- sad seems rather soft and sympathetic
To left and right flowed liquid land,
Encroaching, yet no man could stand,
Nor raise himself up to his knees,
Nor lift a finger to appease
His God, impossible to please,
By prayer or sacrament.
Yet pray we did, each to himself, as cold cut through our bones.
The words were formed of breathless sound
Anguished by terror all around; -- anguished falls awkwardly to my ear
And all our hopes were much the same,
That we should each accept the blame
As if sans hubris and disdane -- disdain
We would be safely home.
Drowned out by hail that now hurled down, our prayers were good as sin.
The rolling wall of earth and grit
Began to wear us, bit by bit.
Our fingers, frozen, failed to grip
Upon the scree. We knew to slip
Would bring and end to this last trip
And death would take us in.
The first, poor Emmet, lost the hold and wailing slipped from sight.
His face a mask of terror, pale
And bloodied by the gritty hail,
Transfixed us three as he slid by,
We three (who cannot, will not die) -- do you need "three" in two successive lines?
In silence , vowed to death defy
And for poor Emmet.. fight!
The rope, once stiff and frozen hard, now jerked and snagged and flailed.
Poor Emmet, though now lost to view
By weight and pull still lived. We knew
That only moments had he left
Before sucked in to mud filled cleft
Before of life he fell bereft,
We could not , would not fail.
Blaygrave screamed out "ROCKS ABOVE!", and pointed, mimed and waved.
McKenny gripped the taught raw line
And plucked it hard to send a sign.
I felt the tug and turned to look,
Good that I did, the mountain shook,
And by his friendship and by luck
I leapt and so was saved.
Great boulders crashed around the ledge and hurtled overhead.
We clung on to to the iron hard cord
And damned the Devil and the Lord.
And all the while poor Emmet swung
On that long rope, in fear he hung,
No hope of help from lowered rung,
Believing all were dead.
The wind now peaked and angered gusts upon our perch now slammed -- beware of fillers like "now"
Yet by the nature of the fight
We felt an easing, then saw light.
Flirt with the mist that swirled on high,
A glint of sun in smoking sky;
Then brighter till it sored the eye
And through our tears saw land.
Rain softened as the wind resigned, as though to destined fate.
McKenny hauled Blaygrave upright
I grasped them both and held them tight.
Elation turned to sickening dread -- sickening, although easily elided, does give a tiny half-beat too much to my reading
As slowly crept we to the edge
And peered down from our puny ledge
To see poor Emmet's state.
There he swayed encased in clay, arms hanging, dripping blood.
No more like death had any seen
Nor lived through such and yet still been
Alive and quick to thank his Lord
With quiet grateful, humble word -- quiet, grateful and humble all in one line makes at least one of them redundant
That surely all the world had heard:
A prayer to brotherhood.
We sit now in this warming place, poor Emmet sleeps away.
We speak each of our inner fears
And these are mine, through gladdened tears.
The others will have thoughts to tell
Of that grave day poor Emmet fell
And how through grace all turned out well;
Though Emmet will not say. -- very good narrative close
Tectak
2011
It could be worse
Posts: 2,602
Threads: 303
Joined: Feb 2017
Leanne,truly excellent critique but I expected no less. On the few points which you made where I shall hold firm it is only because I had already been there!
There are some idiosyncratic nuances of speech which hopefully indicate the tongue in cheek nature of our heroic mountaineers as well as the era in which the tale is set...late 1800's or thereabouts. Just a small point on the cliche "hounds of hell". It is not widely known that the beasts were released in cold and snow so cliche, yes, but apposite.
I will make this work in progress. All received with thanks.
Dis dain....how could I?
Best,
Tectak
Posts: 1,827
Threads: 305
Joined: Dec 2016
"That tested each man's will. -- is "tested" a strong enough word here?"
Oh, come on Leanne, he's British for Christ-sakes!
It's like saying, "Oh, a flesh wound", when his arm's been taken off.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"disdane" How did I miss that?
Leanne would get it of course as she is "Lady Disdain", at least when it concerns much a do about nothing!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As I have already commented extensively on this piece, I shall refrain from further comment.
Dale
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
Posts: 5,057
Threads: 1,075
Joined: Dec 2009
i'll give some feedback later (i'm at a funeral in a short while) on the first couple of reads i enjoyed it. saw a few things which i'll point out later (not too many )
Posts: 2,602
Threads: 303
Joined: Feb 2017
(02-09-2012, 08:56 AM)Leanne Wrote: Good morning Tectak -- for the most part this is a very effective piece of narrative, with good solid meter. There are a few instances of rhymes forcing inversions of syntax, which are usually avoidable and make the reading seem much more natural, however the poem does flow quite well and keeps interest right through to the end.
(02-08-2012, 11:09 PM)tectak Wrote: A tale that hung thereby (or poor Emmet's tale)
Up came the blast to meet we four, as we hastened down the scree,
And each within his bones felt dread -- two lines of inverted syntax in a row feel contrived, you might try "Within his bones each man felt dread"
When down below the land fell dead
And buried, deep; in cloud so dense
That eyes lost sight and could not sense -- "eyes lost sight" seems a waste of words, with the implied association of eyes and sight. Personally I would try for a stronger image here
Enough to judge which way was whence
Within that vaporous sea. -- very Coleridge
From howl on howl there came a roar as of a great release.
We braced ourselves against cold stones -- "cold stones" does put a lot of consonant combinations together, creating a bit of awkwardness, though it's not metrically incorrect
And tensed our sinews, wedged our bones,
Against the tearing wind's wild veer. -- similar awkwardness with "wind's wild veer"
Hell's hounds broke loose and mortal fear -- a couple of cliches in this line that weaken the image
Convinced us each our end was near -- you do use "each" a lot, so much so that it seems a filler word
And with it blessed peace.
But rising still, in mighty gusts, the air throbbed with my heart;
Then each in turn shed tears for life,
Old memories of love and strife.
Our prayers, sucked out in precious breath,
Were surely meant; as sure as death
Comes to us all, yet worries less
Until we needs must part. -- this entire stanza is excellent
We clamped down tight in fear and fright of what the fates would bring. -- the internal rhyme of tight and fright here seems (dare I say it) trite -- personally I'd replace tight
The air had turned and rodding rain
Steel shafts became; and such the pain -- I'm not sure there's any need for the inverted syntax of "steel shafts became", as "became steel shafts" keeps the meter and I don't think the assonance adds anything much here
Upon our cold and exposed brows -- "exposed" falls awkwardly, with the emphasis on the first syllable -- the only alternative I can think of at the moment is "naked", which doesn't quite give the same connotation.
Resolved we each to tell of how -- there's that each again
We lived through this. We made a vow,
Then all began to sing.
The grip on life was holding yet, though Emmet's voice grew shrill.
A deep and chill foreboding rose;
Whilst in our hearts our life blood froze. -- "life blood" is rather cliched
From far away a rushing scream,
As of the horror in a dream,
Bore down on us, a threat unseen,
That tested each man's will. -- is "tested" a strong enough word here?
The very land beneath us shook and trembled deep and low
And we, prostrate on scavenged rock
Felt every tremor, every shock
As all around dark earth slid free,
And yielding to God's gravity,
Assumed a strange fluidity: -- nice rhyme set
A fearsome, fateful flow. -- to avoid overdoing the alliteration, you might reverse fearsome and fateful here
Above us screeched the mighty wind, an endless sad lament. -- sad seems rather soft and sympathetic
To left and right flowed liquid land,
Encroaching, yet no man could stand,
Nor raise himself up to his knees,
Nor lift a finger to appease
His God, impossible to please,
By prayer or sacrament.
Yet pray we did, each to himself, as cold cut through our bones.
The words were formed of breathless sound
Anguished by terror all around; -- anguished falls awkwardly to my ear
And all our hopes were much the same,
That we should each accept the blame
As if sans hubris and disdane -- disdain
We would be safely home.
Drowned out by hail that now hurled down, our prayers were good as sin.
The rolling wall of earth and grit
Began to wear us, bit by bit.
Our fingers, frozen, failed to grip
Upon the scree. We knew to slip
Would bring and end to this last trip
And death would take us in.
The first, poor Emmet, lost the hold and wailing slipped from sight.
His face a mask of terror, pale
And bloodied by the gritty hail,
Transfixed us three as he slid by,
We three (who cannot, will not die) -- do you need "three" in two successive lines?
In silence , vowed to death defy
And for poor Emmet.. fight!
The rope, once stiff and frozen hard, now jerked and snagged and flailed.
Poor Emmet, though now lost to view
By weight and pull still lived. We knew
That only moments had he left
Before sucked in to mud filled cleft
Before of life he fell bereft,
We could not , would not fail.
Blaygrave screamed out "ROCKS ABOVE!", and pointed, mimed and waved.
McKenny gripped the taught raw line
And plucked it hard to send a sign.
I felt the tug and turned to look,
Good that I did, the mountain shook,
And by his friendship and by luck
I leapt and so was saved.
Great boulders crashed around the ledge and hurtled overhead.
We clung on to to the iron hard cord
And damned the Devil and the Lord.
And all the while poor Emmet swung
On that long rope, in fear he hung,
No hope of help from lowered rung,
Believing all were dead.
The wind now peaked and angered gusts upon our perch now slammed -- beware of fillers like "now"
Yet by the nature of the fight
We felt an easing, then saw light.
Flirt with the mist that swirled on high,
A glint of sun in smoking sky;
Then brighter till it sored the eye
And through our tears saw land.
Rain softened as the wind resigned, as though to destined fate.
McKenny hauled Blaygrave upright
I grasped them both and held them tight.
Elation turned to sickening dread -- sickening, although easily elided, does give a tiny half-beat too much to my reading
As slowly crept we to the edge
And peered down from our puny ledge
To see poor Emmet's state.
There he swayed encased in clay, arms hanging, dripping blood.
No more like death had any seen
Nor lived through such and yet still been
Alive and quick to thank his Lord
With quiet grateful, humble word -- quiet, grateful and humble all in one line makes at least one of them redundant
That surely all the world had heard:
A prayer to brotherhood.
We sit now in this warming place, poor Emmet sleeps away.
We speak each of our inner fears
And these are mine, through gladdened tears.
The others will have thoughts to tell
Of that grave day poor Emmet fell
And how through grace all turned out well;
Though Emmet will not say. -- very good narrative close
Tectak
2011
Posts: 478
Threads: 56
Joined: Oct 2011
hello tec
just wanted to share what I saw
(02-08-2012, 11:09 PM)tectak Wrote: A tale that hung thereby (or poor Emmet's tale)
Up came the blast to meet we four, hastening down the scree,
And each within his bones felt dread
When down below the land fell dead
And buried, deep; in cloud so dense
Our vision failed. We could not sense
Enough to judge which way was whence
Within that vap'rous sea....like the comparison to the sea
..at times, I feel like the lines cater more to form than content (leading to unconventional wording/ word choice); an example would be L2, among others. the scene is dramatic from the onset
From howl on howl there came a roar as of a great release.
We braced ourselves against cold stones
And tensed our sinews, wedged our bones,..not sure you need the second comma
Against the tearing wind's wild veer.
Hell's hounds broke loose and mortal fear...this line especially gave me a little less to imagine than its predecessors
Convinced us that our end was near
But with it, promised peace.
Still rising yet, in mighty gusts, the air throbbed with my heart;...just a note: I read "with" as "within"
Then each in turn shed tears for life,...there is a switch of perspective from "my" to "each in turn"; it came a little sudden for me. maybe another way to describe "each"? Who exactly?
Old memories of love and strife.
Our prayers, sucked out in precious breath,
Were surely meant; as sure as death...really liked the sounds of this line
Comes to us all, yet worries less
Until we needs must part.
We clamped down tight in fear and fright of what the fates might bring.
The air had turned and rodding rain
Became steel shafts; and such the pain...played with changing "and such" to "such was"
Upon our cold and exposed brows,
Resolved we then to tell of how
We lived through this. We made a vow,
Then all began to sing.
Our grip on life was holding yet, though Emmet's voice grew shrill. ...I was expecting something about the song they were singing here; instead, it gets left behind rather abruptly. I think these two stanzas would benefit from a deeper transition
A deep and chill foreboding rose,
Whilst in our hearts our life blood froze. ...I'm not sure how I feel about "life blood". instead of using "life" to modify "blood, playing with an adjective to show heat could play nicely with the "froze" at the end of the line.
From far away a rushing scream,
As of the horror in a dream,
Bore down on us, a threat unseen,
That tested each man's will....liked the sentiments here; Gothic imagery
The very land beneath us shook and trembled deep and low
And we, prostrate on scavenged rock...I may be going too far, but having a little scene in which these characters first end up prostrated could an additional layer of depth
Felt every tremor, every shock
As all around dark earth slid free,
And yielding to God's gravity,
Assumed a strange fluidity: ...like the connection between fluidity and gravity
A fearsome, fateful flow.
Above us screeched the mighty wind, an endless dire lament.
To left and right flowed liquid land,
Encroaching, yet no man could stand,
Nor raise himself up to his knees,
Nor lift a finger to appease
His God, impossible to please,
By prayer or sacrament.
Yet pray we did, each to himself, as cold cut through our bones.
The words were formed of breathless sound...this is great, elaborating on the prayer; it was what I expected from the "singing" stanza
Anguished by terror all around;
And all our hopes were much the same,
That by accepting equal blame
We would, sans hubris and disdain,
Be guided safely home.
Drowned out by hail that now hurled down, our prayers were good as sin....stumbled a little bit reading this line; may just be me. strikes me as a syllable or two too long
The rolling wall of earth and grit
Began to wear us, bit by bit.
Our fingers, frozen, failed to grip
Upon the scree. We knew to slip
Would bring and end to this last trip ..."an" for "and"
And death would take us in. [b]...I liked the connection between "trip" and taking someone "in"
The first, poor Emmet, lost his hold and wailing slipped from sight.
His face a mask of terror, pale...I think the image could be even stronger if you removed "his face" and just said "his mask of terror
And bloodied by the gritty hail,
Transfixed us three as he slid by,
We three (who cannot, will not die)...the parentheses bit struck me as a little forced
In silence , vowed to death defy
And for poor Emmet.. fight!
The rope, once stiff and frozen hard, now jerked and snagged and flailed.
Poor Emmet, though now lost to view..."though now" seemed excessive, not sure if they serve the poem much
By weight and pull still lived. We knew
That only moments had he left
Before sucked in to mud filled cleft,
Before of life he fell bereft;
We could not , would not fail.
Blaygrave screamed out "ROCKS ABOVE!", and pointed, mimed and waved....this quotation really struck me, though I don't think in the best of ways. In a poem full of described voices (singing, whispering, cries, etc.), I wondered why there had to be this sudden interjection. it distracted me, especially because I'm questioning what the direct speech adds here
McKenny gripped the taught raw line
And plucked it hard to send a sign.
I felt the tug and turned to look,
Good that I did, the mountain shook,..."good that I did", I'm not sure how much it adds
And by his friendship and by luck
I leapt and so was saved.
Great boulders crashed around the ledge and hurtled overhead.
We clung on to to the iron hard cord
And damned the Devil and the Lord.
And all the while poor Emmet swung
On that long rope, in fear he hung,
No hope of help from lowered rung,
Believing all were dead.
The wind had peaked but angered gusts upon our perch now slammed.
Yet by the nature of the fight
We felt an easing, then saw light
Flirt with the mist that swirled on high,
A glint of sun in smoking sky;
Then brighter till it sored the eye
And through our tears saw land. ...I think the people are supposed to be the subject (since light doesn't see through your eyes); I think a subject switch would help the line
Rain softened as the wind resigned, as though to destined fate.
McKenny hauled Blaygrave upright
I grasped them both and held them tight.
Elation turned to sickening dread
As slowly crept we to the edge
And peered down from our puny ledge
To see poor Emmet's state.
There he swayed encased in clay, arms hanging, dripping blood.
No more like death had any seen
Nor lived through such and yet still been
Alive and quick to thank his Lord
With grateful, humble, whispered word
That surely all the world had heard:
A prayer to brotherhood.
We sit now in this warming place, poor Emmet sleeps away.
We speak each of our inner fears
And these are mine, through gladdened tears.
The others will have thoughts to tell
Of that grave day poor Emmet fell
And how through grace all turned out well;
Though Emmet will not say. ...wonderful close
Tectak
2011
I like the story, though at times it caters to form over content/ meaning. perhaps just me, but I felt that some parts mirrored other parts rather too closely than my liking. certainly has a great, dramatic flair, but its so constant that the scenes began to lose their energy for me. It's probably just me, however. I hope this input serves you well
Written only for you to consider.
Posts: 2,602
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Joined: Feb 2017
Many, many thank for this. I hope that the language is idiosyncratic if not actually implying humorous intent (in the Bertie Wooster style).
I will incorporate some of your suggestions immediately.....others I will dwell upon!
I previously published this effort on the "other" site where erthona was constructive to a degree. The last modifications were suggested by Leanne..It is becoming a joint effort.
On specific points I confess to having rather a long line memory...in writing verse I subject the reader to unnecessary leaps back and forth...for this I apologise.
Apart from typos I have to accept fair criticism of errors in grammar. I have not had a chance to read this piece out loud in a quiet room. When I do I will pick up on half beats and correct where necessary.
This poem was inspired by the ludicrous tale of "The ascent of Rum Doodle" by Bowman.
Best,
Tectak
Posts: 1,568
Threads: 317
Joined: Jun 2011
Really nice revisions for the most part... though I'm wondering why you've gone with "still rising yet" in S3 L1, seems tautological to me.
Love "dire lament".
And workshopping should be a joint effort, as long as the decision to make changes remains with the originator of the poem. Any suggestions here are freely offered, and you're always free to reject them
It could be worse
Posts: 239
Threads: 40
Joined: Jun 2011
Sorry not to have commented before..
I think this is perfectly splendid, top-whack, top-hole.
It had a good rolling rhythm, and the meter more or less behaved itself, in an iambic sort of way, though the 'Anguish' line wobbled into troche a little, but it still seemed OK in the way that things can, if previously it has all been going along so well.
I use inversions in my ordinary speech, and so, I fancy does Leanne ("A real bastard he is") and although in the big cities in the UK, one can witness a degradation of the language, there seems to me to be no reason to hasten it along. It does, in any event, as you mention somewhere, reflect, the times.
Yes, a bit Coleridge - bereft though it be of the rich imagery he was fond of.
Tell me that I did not know you in Another Place. Or if I did ---
Pip-pip old top!
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(02-10-2012, 08:37 AM)Leanne Wrote: Really nice revisions for the most part... though I'm wondering why you've gone with "still rising yet" in S3 L1, seems tautological to me.
Love "dire lament".
And workshopping should be a joint effort, as long as the decision to make changes remains with the originator of the poem. Any suggestions here are freely offered, and you're always free to reject them
Hi Leanne,
Still tweaking yet! Shortest tautological line for sure....but fitting for the era. Still well spotted! I am nearly convinced that the end is nigh for the development of this piece and I need to call a design freeze. Thank you all.
Best,
Tectak
(02-10-2012, 11:58 AM)abu nuwas Wrote: Sorry not to have commented before..
I think this is perfectly splendid, top-whack, top-hole.
It had a good rolling rhythm, and the meter more or less behaved itself, in an iambic sort of way, though the 'Anguish' line wobbled into troche a little, but it still seemed OK in the way that things can, if previously it has all been going along so well.
I use inversions in my ordinary speech, and so, I fancy does Leanne ("A real bastard he is") and although in the big cities in the UK, one can witness a degradation of the language, there seems to me to be no reason to hasten it along. It does, in any event, as you mention somewhere, reflect, the times.
Yes, a bit Coleridge - bereft though it be of the rich imagery he was fond of.
Tell me that I did not know you in Another Place. Or if I did ---
Pip-pip old top! Thank you for the contemporaneus understanding. Perhaps we are of an age....this piece is written in a period style which I confess I regret has slipped into history. That there are fragments of the language from the era still used in certain circles is a great comfort to me.....and to you?
Did you know me in another place? Well, in the words of Boris, I could not fail to disagree with you less !
Best, Tectak
Posts: 5,057
Threads: 1,075
Joined: Dec 2009
02-10-2012, 07:45 PM
(This post was last modified: 02-10-2012, 07:48 PM by billy.)
(02-08-2012, 11:09 PM)tectak Wrote: A tale that hung thereby (or poor Emmet's tale)
Up came the blast to meet we four, hastening down the scree,
And each within his bones felt dread
When down below the land fell dead
And buried, deep; in cloud so dense
Our vision failed. We could not sense
Enough to judge which way was whence
Within that vap'rous sea.
what a great opening, for some reason i'm thinking of the 4 riders of the apocalypse. though no mention of mounts are made. (i know it isn't about them, but it has that kind of power)
From howl on howl there came a roar as of a great release.
We braced ourselves against cold stones
And tensed our sinews, wedged our bones,
Against the tearing wind's wild veer.
Hell's hounds broke loose and mortal fear
Convinced us that our end was near
But with it, promised peace.
and another great verse. the way it flows through the head is excellent. it's hard for me to pick any good lines out because they're all well rounded into each of their respective verse.
Still rising yet, in mighty gusts, the air throbbed with my heart;
Then each in turn shed tears for life,
Old memories of love and strife.
Our prayers, sucked out in precious breath,
Were surely meant; as sure as death
Comes to us all, yet worries less
Until we needs must part. at last, (it's probably me but) i struggled comprehension wise with the last two lines. the rest of the verse i had no problem with and like the others all of the verse flowed really well
We clamped down tight in fear and fright of what the fates might bring. great 'F' sounds.
The air had turned and rodding rain
Became steel shafts; and such the pain
Upon our cold and exposed brows,
Resolved we then to tell of how
We lived through this. We made a vow,
Then all began to sing. this line came as a surprise (it felt too jolly)
Our grip on life was holding yet, though Emmet's voice grew shrill.
A deep and chill foreboding rose,
Whilst in our hearts our life blood froze.
From far away a rushing scream,
As of the horror in a dream,
Bore down on us, a threat unseen,
That tested each man's will.
The very land beneath us shook and trembled deep and low
And we, prostrate on scavenged rock
Felt every tremor, every shock
As all around dark earth slid free, 1 of many good images
And yielding to God's gravity,
Assumed a strange fluidity:
A fearsome, fateful flow.
Above us screeched the mighty wind, an endless dire lament.
To left and right flowed liquid land,
Encroaching, yet no man could stand,
Nor raise himself up to his knees,
Nor lift a finger to appease
His God, impossible to please,
By prayer or sacrament.
Yet pray we did, each to himself, as cold cut through our bones.
The words were formed of breathless sound
Anguished by terror all around;
And all our hopes were much the same,
That by accepting equal blame
We would, sans hubris and disdain,
Be guided safely home.
Drowned out by hail that now hurled down, our prayers were good as sin.
The rolling wall of earth and grit
Began to wear us, bit by bit.
Our fingers, frozen, failed to grip
Upon the scree. We knew to slip
Would bring and end to this last trip
And death would take us in.
The first, poor Emmet, lost his hold and wailing slipped from sight.
His face a mask of terror, pale
And bloodied by the gritty hail,
Transfixed us three as he slid by,
We three (who cannot, will not die)
In silence , vowed to death defy
And for poor Emmet.. fight!
The rope, once stiff and frozen hard, now jerked and snagged and flailed.
Poor Emmet, though now lost to view
By weight and pull still lived. We knew
That only moments had he left
Before sucked in to mud filled cleft,
Before of life he fell bereft;
We could not , would not fail.
Blaygrave screamed out "ROCKS ABOVE!", and pointed, mimed and waved.
McKenny gripped the taught raw line
And plucked it hard to send a sign.
I felt the tug and turned to look,
Good that I did, the mountain shook,
And by his friendship and by luck
I leapt and so was saved.
Great boulders crashed around the ledge and hurtled overhead.
We clung on to to the iron hard cord
And damned the Devil and the Lord.
And all the while poor Emmet swung
On that long rope, in fear he hung,
No hope of help from lowered rung,
Believing all were dead.
The wind had peaked but angered gusts upon our perch now slammed.
Yet by the nature of the fight
We felt an easing, then saw light
Flirt with the mist that swirled on high,
A glint of sun in smoking sky;
Then brighter till it sored the eye
And through our tears saw land.
Rain softened as the wind resigned, as though to destined fate.
McKenny hauled Blaygrave upright
I grasped them both and held them tight.
Elation turned to sickening dread
As slowly crept we to the edge
And peered down from our puny ledge
To see poor Emmet's state.
There he swayed encased in clay, arms hanging, dripping blood.
No more like death had any seen
Nor lived through such and yet still been
Alive and quick to thank his Lord
With grateful, humble, whispered word
That surely all the world had heard:
A prayer to brotherhood.
We sit now in this warming place, poor Emmet sleeps away.
We speak each of our inner fears
And these are mine, through gladdened tears.
The others will have thoughts to tell
Of that grave day poor Emmet fell (double space between grave and day. just mentioning it to show i'm still with the poem) it wasn't a problem
And how through grace all turned out well;
Though Emmet will not say.
Tectak
2011 the rhyme scheme is so subtle i never noticed (i did see it because i looked for it abbccca  the narrative was excellent, i did see 1 or 2 yoda speaks but for me they only added to the tale giving it some kind of depth pertaining to another time. i only wish i could be more constructive, as i see with the edit you're workshopping the piece. the poem flowed easily yet held the reader in suspense.
i would say this is a very publishable piece, one i wouldn't grumble at, should it be in a book i'd paid for. you can see no comments in the later verse because i read them of sameness quality-wise, which was excellent. one of the things i enjoyed most was how the piece kept me on the edge (jmo)
thanks for the read
Posts: 2,602
Threads: 303
Joined: Feb 2017
(02-10-2012, 07:45 PM)billy Wrote: (02-08-2012, 11:09 PM)tectak Wrote: A tale that hung thereby (or poor Emmet's tale)
Up came the blast to meet we four, hastening down the scree,
And each within his bones felt dread
When down below the land fell dead
And buried, deep; in cloud so dense
Our vision failed. We could not sense
Enough to judge which way was whence
Within that vap'rous sea.
what a great opening, for some reason i'm thinking of the 4 riders of the apocalypse. though no mention of mounts are made. (i know it isn't about them, but it has that kind of power)
From howl on howl there came a roar as of a great release.
We braced ourselves against cold stones
And tensed our sinews, wedged our bones,
Against the tearing wind's wild veer.
Hell's hounds broke loose and mortal fear
Convinced us that our end was near
But with it, promised peace.
and another great verse. the way it flows through the head is excellent. it's hard for me to pick any good lines out because they're all well rounded into each of their respective verse.
Still rising yet, in mighty gusts, the air throbbed with my heart;
Then each in turn shed tears for life,
Old memories of love and strife.
Our prayers, sucked out in precious breath,
Were surely meant; as sure as death
Comes to us all, yet worries less
Until we needs must part. at last, (it's probably me but) i struggled comprehension wise with the last two lines. the rest of the verse i had no problem with and like the others all of the verse flowed really well
We clamped down tight in fear and fright of what the fates might bring. great 'F' sounds.
The air had turned and rodding rain
Became steel shafts; and such the pain
Upon our cold and exposed brows,
Resolved we then to tell of how
We lived through this. We made a vow,
Then all began to sing. this line came as a surprise (it felt too jolly)
Our grip on life was holding yet, though Emmet's voice grew shrill.
A deep and chill foreboding rose,
Whilst in our hearts our life blood froze.
From far away a rushing scream,
As of the horror in a dream,
Bore down on us, a threat unseen,
That tested each man's will.
The very land beneath us shook and trembled deep and low
And we, prostrate on scavenged rock
Felt every tremor, every shock
As all around dark earth slid free, 1 of many good images
And yielding to God's gravity,
Assumed a strange fluidity:
A fearsome, fateful flow.
Above us screeched the mighty wind, an endless dire lament.
To left and right flowed liquid land,
Encroaching, yet no man could stand,
Nor raise himself up to his knees,
Nor lift a finger to appease
His God, impossible to please,
By prayer or sacrament.
Yet pray we did, each to himself, as cold cut through our bones.
The words were formed of breathless sound
Anguished by terror all around;
And all our hopes were much the same,
That by accepting equal blame
We would, sans hubris and disdain,
Be guided safely home.
Drowned out by hail that now hurled down, our prayers were good as sin.
The rolling wall of earth and grit
Began to wear us, bit by bit.
Our fingers, frozen, failed to grip
Upon the scree. We knew to slip
Would bring and end to this last trip
And death would take us in.
The first, poor Emmet, lost his hold and wailing slipped from sight.
His face a mask of terror, pale
And bloodied by the gritty hail,
Transfixed us three as he slid by,
We three (who cannot, will not die)
In silence , vowed to death defy
And for poor Emmet.. fight!
The rope, once stiff and frozen hard, now jerked and snagged and flailed.
Poor Emmet, though now lost to view
By weight and pull still lived. We knew
That only moments had he left
Before sucked in to mud filled cleft,
Before of life he fell bereft;
We could not , would not fail.
Blaygrave screamed out "ROCKS ABOVE!", and pointed, mimed and waved.
McKenny gripped the taught raw line
And plucked it hard to send a sign.
I felt the tug and turned to look,
Good that I did, the mountain shook,
And by his friendship and by luck
I leapt and so was saved.
Great boulders crashed around the ledge and hurtled overhead.
We clung on to to the iron hard cord
And damned the Devil and the Lord.
And all the while poor Emmet swung
On that long rope, in fear he hung,
No hope of help from lowered rung,
Believing all were dead.
The wind had peaked but angered gusts upon our perch now slammed.
Yet by the nature of the fight
We felt an easing, then saw light
Flirt with the mist that swirled on high,
A glint of sun in smoking sky;
Then brighter till it sored the eye
And through our tears saw land.
Rain softened as the wind resigned, as though to destined fate.
McKenny hauled Blaygrave upright
I grasped them both and held them tight.
Elation turned to sickening dread
As slowly crept we to the edge
And peered down from our puny ledge
To see poor Emmet's state.
There he swayed encased in clay, arms hanging, dripping blood.
No more like death had any seen
Nor lived through such and yet still been
Alive and quick to thank his Lord
With grateful, humble, whispered word
That surely all the world had heard:
A prayer to brotherhood.
We sit now in this warming place, poor Emmet sleeps away.
We speak each of our inner fears
And these are mine, through gladdened tears.
The others will have thoughts to tell
Of that grave day poor Emmet fell (double space between grave and day. just mentioning it to show i'm still with the poem) it wasn't a problem
And how through grace all turned out well;
Though Emmet will not say.
Tectak
2011 the rhyme scheme is so subtle i never noticed (i did see it because i looked for it abbccca the narrative was excellent, i did see 1 or 2 yoda speaks but for me they only added to the tale giving it some kind of depth pertaining to another time. i only wish i could be more constructive, as i see with the edit you're workshopping the piece. the poem flowed easily yet held the reader in suspense.
i would say this is a very publishable piece, one i wouldn't grumble at, should it be in a book i'd paid for. you can see no comments in the later verse because i read them of sameness quality-wise, which was excellent. one of the things i enjoyed most was how the piece kept me on the edge (jmo)
thanks for the read
Most encouraging, Billy. You were perceptive beyond your modesty! Yes...it was "of another time". The language was hopefully JUST bordering on mid/late-19th century English as often indicated in stories of the heroic escapades of the time. This is the antidote to "The Ascent of Rum Doodle", a cult fiction of the ludicrous tale of Englishmen in their almost farcical attempt to ascend a great peak "unaided". I will say no more as the book is googleable.
On the puzzling line "as sure as death...." I am afraid I may have sacrificed conciseness on the altar of requirement! I was trying to say that death never worries us ( that is to say, our heroes) in spite of its inevitability, until it is imminent. This moreso if you are hanging on to a rope half way down a mountain when the weather whites out and the wind becomes frightful and down comes the rain, snow and hail!
Thanks for your input. Everything counts.
Best,
tectak
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