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For James - Not out!
A verdant bed in pleasant pastures green,
did sooth the eye and cause the mind to dream.
A heart so contentedly encumbered,
soon slips to sloth and slumber.
Both ear and eye closed, none fearing,
no longer heed to seeing, hearing.
The fruit of this most verdant bed,
Costly cedar beams, in place instead
of perishable pine… now consigned,
to be fragrant firs in the rafters aligned.
A forest of fruitful apple trees - each yielding.
Yet in truth… Mammon his dagger was wielding.
Through an’ through the dagger finds its mark.
His goal to oust the rightful keeper of the heart,
He’ll take the worship and gain the throne,
Given – taken, that which belongs to God alone.
The net is cast. The snare is set.
For thirty pieces the terms are met.
The clouds that gathered in the morn,
Were nothing compared to the final storm.
Thus dulled and weakened. Half asleep.
I heard a thunderous beat; locusts - eating as they leap
Came the sliding serpent and at a trot, a little fox,
triumphant they took the contract from the box.
Then gathered the beasts at the goodly feast,
Growling ‘ere they went, “The last get least!”
For eighteen months the fire storm raged,
whilst dust to dust our dreams were laid.
Consuming all this ravening hoard,
Commanded the captain to walk the board.
They seized the helm. Ditched the cargo,
and broke the mast as a trade embargo.
When all was lost; she breathed her last.
Then to the sharks the crew were cast.
Gathering pirates came to acquire; to pick
over the bones that the beasts had licked.
Thus on the shores of hope forlorn
I awoke, surveyed and much did mourn;
What could have been, should have been.
The treasures seen, the crumbling dreams.
Of pleasant things once counted best,
Consumed by fire in a cedar chest.
The sound of my lament rose higher,
Fuelled by anger. Burning like fire.
“What now of those who need to sup,
Beneath this roof, take from our cup?”
“No more to draw from this great store...
their need is great – alas we have no more!”
Over this clamour, subduing the tantrum,
A song of praise, a shining lantern.
Rising from the mouldering dust,
the truth, the cost of my great lust.
Misplaced trust and worship; uncovered.
A heart unfettered, love re-discovered.
Then fixed my heart on heavenly wealth
Eyes, ears renewed, sharp with health.
My thoughts rise up from the funeral pyre
Beyond the skies, higher and higher.
Till resting on the highest throne
give praise to God and him alone.
Within the warehouse of heavenly stores,
Abundant provision, always more!
No arm of flesh nor feeble frame,
Should ere be trusted with glory or fame.
Only one there is who could hold that cup
Beloved face, unto whom my gaze is lifted up.
Long will I gaze with lingering looks
And bless the name that gave and took.
‘twas always his and never mine.
A gift of grace, loaned for a short time.
A blessing. Here today then gone tomorrow;
Yet praise will fill this heart - not sorrow.
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Do not read this if an authors' note will spoil the read for you.
I 've decided to write a few lines of explanation as I seam to be getting readers but no feed back here and following a comment on a different thread to the effect that this is a difficult poem to critique. Perhaps a view into the back story might help.
This is a deeply personal and emotional poem written at a time of great financial stress. (James is hubby) and we went from muti-millionaires / owners of a cider factory... to needing food boxes. We lost ten years of investment because the government made a mistake which allowed the banks to have the company from under our feet. 6 lost high courtcases later and the death of my mother-in-law, we were both pretty broken. At time of writing I was angst filled and angry....but my inner voice of faith had something else to say and this poem is the result.
If this helps perhaps now try a re-read.
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Hi cider maid, I've got to step away for a few hours. I'll return later on to comment. I'm going to avoid your explanation till after I've finished the critique.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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Some beautiful symbolism here, I'm going to read it a few more times to see what I get out of it -- though I find myself wishing it were in Serious Critique so I could give you really in-depth feedback (I'm never satisfied, dammit). I would love to work with you specifically on meter, which is so important in a structured, rhyming poem like this -- I can tell you have a natural feel for it but it needs smoothing out.
I will be back later today when I have a little more time.
It could be worse
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I'm happy to have you move it ...or we could, not and just say we did! ...either way v happy to recieve some indepth feedback. (It was only cowardice that made me post it on this thread...zero self confidance...pathetic i know!...must try harder...hence joined a forum!)
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I moved it to Serious.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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Hello. I read the explanatory notes and I have to say I wouldn't have grasped the story without them. Even then, the 2nd verse I don't really get. There's a lot of the Biblical parable about the tale, which is ok, but then it seems to go for a long while simply to draw the conclusion that all's for the best in the best of all possible worlds.
Leanne mentioned problems with the metre. I thought so too.
A heart so contentedly encumbered,
soon slips to sloth and slumber - 2nd line seems too short.
Can one say "no longer heed to"? Perhaps so, I'd prefer "heeding".
Consuming all this ravening hoard,
Commanded the captain to walk the board. - I think the comma should be after "all".
Consumed by fire in a cedar chest - maybe this, or summat similar, needs inserting earlier on.
tantrum/lantern - nice rhyme.
It's not really my cup of tea, it's twice as long as needs to be and the language tends to the archaic and unnatural on occasion. Still, I like the parable style, I just think the tale needs more concrete detail towards the beginning.
Before criticising a person, try walking a mile in their shoes. Then when you do criticise them, you're a mile away.....and you have their shoes.
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Hi cidermaid,
Meter isn't something I spend a lot of time with so I'll leave that part to others. I'd like to focus on your content and clarity. I didn't read your explanation (thanks for the spoiler alert). My comments below:
(11-17-2012, 05:16 PM)cidermaid Wrote: For James - Not out!
A verdant bed in pleasant pastures green,
did sooth the eye and cause the mind to dream.
A heart so contentedly encumbered,
soon slips to sloth and slumber.
Both ear and eye closed, none fearing,
no longer heed to seeing, hearing.
The language in S1 feels a little stilted especially in the last couplet. So, here's my take from this. The speaker is contemplating a pastoral scene. The comment on causing the mind to dream sounds like the speaker is making plans with what they see. Maybe tied into personal ambition. Their emotions (heart) buys into the dream. They because lazy and unaware. From none fearing to the end you get a sense that the speaker didn't think anyone existed to cause the dream to be upset. There were signs to see and hear but they went ignored.
The fruit of this most verdant bed,
Costly cedar beams, in place instead
of perishable pine… now consigned,
to be fragrant firs in the rafters aligned.
A forest of fruitful apple trees - each yielding.
Yet in truth… Mammon his dagger was wielding.
The fruit would suggest to me. The return gained through fulfilling the dream. The line break on instead feels a bit off. What it seems to be doing is contradicting the fruit line. I realize this screws up your rhyme but it feels like for content you need to break on place or redo the line entirely. I'm a little lost with the various woods. We have costly ceder beams in place instead of the pine. Which suggests that a lot of money is going into development. Is the ceder being replaced by firs because of some setback. I'm sorry I got lost in the sequence. I feel like rhyme is replacing clarity. Is it a forest of apple trees or a grove or an orchard? I'm not an apple expert but is forest really the right word. Okay so there seems to be some payoff for the dream as the apples are producing fruit literally, or figuratively it's a metaphor for bounty. Then we get to an abrupt shift to Mammon. So, the gain is associated with ungodly riches. Or the love of money brought down the dream. Severed business partners since you introduce a dagger maybe? I'm not sure how fond I am of the phrase Mammon's dagger since a dagger doesn't suggest to me ungodly riches. It could just be me of course.
Through an’ through the dagger finds its mark.
His goal to oust the rightful keeper of the heart,
He’ll take the worship and gain the throne,
Given – taken, that which belongs to God alone.
The net is cast. The snare is set.
For thirty pieces the terms are met.
line two: should it be its goal not his? The first two lines then: someone got greedy. Given-taken feels a bit awkward. So, this person who was taken over by greed did a Judas like betrayal. A lot of biblical imagery here.
The clouds that gathered in the morn,
Were nothing compared to the final storm.
Thus dulled and weakened. Half asleep.
I heard a thunderous beat; locusts - eating as they leap
Came the sliding serpent and at a trot, a little fox,
triumphant they took the contract from the box.
Okay more biblical imagery: plagues, the little foxes referenced in the wisdom literature, or if you like Samson and the Philistines burning the fields with torches. Then we get to a contract maybe coming from a safe. I found that a little jarring. It felt like the archaic was crashing into the modern
Then gathered the beasts at the goodly feast,
Growling ‘ere they went, “The last get least!”
For eighteen months the fire storm raged,
whilst dust to dust our dreams were laid.
Consuming all this ravening hoard,
Commanded the captain to walk the board.
It's at this point that I'm starting to notice how long this is. It's not holding my attention as well as it should. What that probably means is that you have a narrative in mind and you're being too rigidly attached to it. It could just be me. The first two lines feel consistent with the imagery. I like the last get least because it's a reversal on the first will be last. This feels Daniel or Revelation--apocalyptic. Line 3 is modern again, and it is just as jarring. Dust to dust is a cliche that you may want to avoid. Line 5: I'm back to the horde (check your spelling, homonym). Yet in the final line we have a captain walking the plank. It feels out of place.
They seized the helm. Ditched the cargo,
and broke the mast as a trade embargo.
When all was lost; she breathed her last.
Then to the sharks the crew were cast.
Gathering pirates came to acquire; to pick
over the bones that the beasts had licked.
Okay, here's my opinion choose one set of images or another. Biblical or Pirate. The pirate actually reads well so up to you. I think both sets of imagery together are confusing. Pick and licked feels forced.
Thus on the shores of hope forlorn
I awoke, surveyed and much did mourn;
What could have been, should have been.
The treasures seen, the crumbling dreams.
Of pleasant things once counted best,
Consumed by fire in a cedar chest.
Much did mourn sounds awkward. I like the last four lines here a lot. They sound good. I had a minor bump with not having a what before should, but it was minor. These last four lines have a good pace and sound well read out loud.
The sound of my lament rose higher,
Fuelled by anger. Burning like fire.
“What now of those who need to sup,
Beneath this roof, take from our cup?”
“No more to draw from this great store...
their need is great – alas we have no more!”
The more I read the ship imagery the more I like it. I would be in favor of eliminating the biblical plagues and Judas in favor of this as it seems so much tighter.
Over this clamour, subduing the tantrum,
A song of praise, a shining lantern.
Rising from the mouldering dust,
the truth, the cost of my great lust.
Misplaced trust and worship; uncovered.
A heart unfettered, love re-discovered.
I've learned on this site that my US spelling may not correspond to the UK. If you are from the US drop the "u" in clamour and mouldering otherwise leave them alone. Again you've gotten stronger at the end and you've pulled me in. It's like you wrote for awhile until you found out what you wanted to say. The field, the apples, the dream is largely unneeded if you handle this pirate area the right way. I'm not saying that anything earlier is bad it just feels like two poems on the same topic. I'm not sure if that makes sense.
Then fixed my heart on heavenly wealth
Eyes, ears renewed, sharp with health.
My thoughts rise up from the funeral pyre
Beyond the skies, higher and higher.
Till resting on the highest throne
give praise to God and him alone.
Now we're back to the biblical images and this doxology. I could be wrong but while this has nice pace and crisp writing, to me this is poem one and I've just moved away from poem 2.
Within the warehouse of heavenly stores,
Abundant provision, always more!
No arm of flesh nor feeble frame,
Should ere be trusted with glory or fame.
Only one there is who could hold that cup
Beloved face, unto whom my gaze is lifted up.
Again poem 1 and the syntax feels inverted and off to me. I also am not a fan of moving back to ere it's a bit jarring.
Long will I gaze with lingering looks
And bless the name that gave and took.
‘twas always his and never mine.
A gift of grace, loaned for a short time.
A blessing. Here today then gone tomorrow;
Yet praise will fill this heart - not sorrow.
And now we have Job. Here today then gone tomorrow is a cliche that deserves a substitute.
I hope some of this is helpful. If it isn't please ignore. If I was unclear let me know.
Best,
Todd
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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Excellent feedback from Todd and I actually don't have a lot to add to that content breakdown except to say that because you start with a Blake reference, I'd make sure the symbols you choose are biblical ones (as much as I love pirates) for the sake of continuity. Adding too many layers of intertext can make a poem lose direction as the readers sometimes have to battle to sort it all out.
Meter-wise, you could continue the iambic pentameter you have in the first two lines or you could choose to go with the hymnal style of Blake's Jerusalem, which is iambic tetrameter (four beats/ eight syllables instead of five beats/ ten syllables). Pentameter might be the go, in which case my suggestion for the first stanza would be:
A verdant bed in pleasant pastures green,
did sooth the eye and cause the mind to dream.
A peaceful heart contentedly encumbered
soon slips toward the traps of sloth and slumber.
Both eyes and ears are closed, with not a fear,
refusing any need to see or hear.
It could be worse
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i'll pop by in a while and leave something behind 
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Wow..thanks Todd for all the work and time you put into that.
I'm still feeling my feet here, esp with recieving critique and what is an appropriate response. Am I supposed to now explain my reasoning to some of the points you raised? ( I am mostly of the persuasion that if it needs explaining to any great depth...it has failed; but the fragile ego side of me wants to justify my work!)
I really appreciate all of the comments, Overall, I think that your comments are probably spot on, in that I wrote with two hats on:- A tale of how a company is torn apart by the liquidators / religious insight into what life is about) and what i actually need to do is set asside the personal recollections and the narative of the experiance, that was my inspiration and entirly re-work this poem. So that it can stand apart from any explanation and carry a meaning of it's own.
If i'm doing a complete re-work..."...I might be gone some time"
Meanwhile my thanks to both you and Leanne.
I only joined about a week ago and before that I never would have survived a critique session without some sort of knee jerk reaction concerning feeling rejected. (Thanks Billy - I've read several of your posts on giving and recieving critique).
When Leanne first mentioned moving this to the serious board my reaction was no way! Then after some thought I realised that belonging to this site had already given me confidance to press on.
If you've ever sean the Monty Python sketch in the meaning of life where the woman in the kitchen is persuaded to let them take her liver....I felt a bit like that! "Oh go then...you've talked me into it!" 
Also...just checking the small print on the liver donor form...do I now need to give 3 critiques on this board, or can I creep back onto less scary boards?
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try and leave it a while before detailing your thoughts, unless someone asks a question. i'm going to spend some time on it now
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You're not obliged to do or say anything
We don't do tit-for-tat, as you know, we only ask that you give back what you feel you can. Critiquing in this forum is demanding and if you don't feel up to it, wait a while. Getting involved on ANY forum is just as valuable.
Just remember that you're standing on a planet that's evolving...
It could be worse
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(11-17-2012, 05:16 PM)cidermaid Wrote: For James - Not out!
A verdant bed in pleasant pastures green, verdent and green are pretty much the same thing, could one be changed. of course it could affect the end rhyme if you do  my suggestion would be seem, you could change did to to in order to make it work
did sooth the eye and cause the mind to dream.
A heart so contentedly encumbered,
soon slips to sloth and slumber.
Both ear and eye closed, none fearing,
no longer heed to seeing, hearing. for some reason the meter changes after the first two lines. it would be better with one meter throughout going back to get a better view of the poem under all my birdshit i saw leannes suggestion for the meter, and it works well, i still feel verdant and green on the same line is a little too much.
The fruit of this most verdant bed, again the use of verdant
Costly cedar beams, in place instead
of perishable pine… now consigned,
to be fragrant firs in the rafters aligned.
A forest of fruitful apple trees - each yielding.
Yet in truth… Mammon his dagger was wielding. this verse feels awkward, i get that mammon is a bank or institution so i'm taking the dagger as the repayment. it has a religious feel about it though the field of apple trees and what their role is is hard to understand.
Through an’ through the dagger finds its mark.
His goal to oust the rightful keeper of the heart, this fits in with the image i had from above.
He’ll take the worship and gain the throne,
Given – taken, that which belongs to God alone.
The net is cast. The snare is set.
For thirty pieces the terms are met. the religious aspects elude me.
The clouds that gathered in the morn,
Were nothing compared to the final storm.
Thus dulled and weakened. Half asleep.
I heard a thunderous beat; locusts - eating as they leap
Came the sliding serpent and at a trot, a little fox,
triumphant they took the contract from the box.
Then gathered the beasts at the goodly feast,
Growling ‘ere they went, “The last get least!”
For eighteen months the fire storm raged,
whilst dust to dust our dreams were laid.
Consuming all this ravening hoard,
Commanded the captain to walk the board.
They seized the helm. Ditched the cargo,
and broke the mast as a trade embargo.
When all was lost; she breathed her last.
Then to the sharks the crew were cast.
Gathering pirates came to acquire; to pick
over the bones that the beasts had licked.
Thus on the shores of hope forlorn
I awoke, surveyed and much did mourn;
What could have been, should have been.
The treasures seen, the crumbling dreams.
Of pleasant things once counted best,
Consumed by fire in a cedar chest.
The sound of my lament rose higher,
Fuelled by anger. Burning like fire.
“What now of those who need to sup,
Beneath this roof, take from our cup?”
“No more to draw from this great store...
their need is great – alas we have no more!”
Over this clamour, subduing the tantrum,
A song of praise, a shining lantern.
Rising from the mouldering dust,
the truth, the cost of my great lust.
Misplaced trust and worship; uncovered.
A heart unfettered, love re-discovered.
Then fixed my heart on heavenly wealth
Eyes, ears renewed, sharp with health.
My thoughts rise up from the funeral pyre
Beyond the skies, higher and higher.
Till resting on the highest throne
give praise to God and him alone.
Within the warehouse of heavenly stores,
Abundant provision, always more!
No arm of flesh nor feeble frame,
Should ere be trusted with glory or fame.
Only one there is who could hold that cup
Beloved face, unto whom my gaze is lifted up.
Long will I gaze with lingering looks
And bless the name that gave and took.
‘twas always his and never mine.
A gift of grace, loaned for a short time.
A blessing. Here today then gone tomorrow;
Yet praise will fill this heart - not sorrow. high cidermaid, the poem specially the latter part has a lot of sorrow in the lines and there are many good ones but i'm struggling to get a grip on the thing. i see the greed and the loss but i can't connect the dots. wish i could have been of better use
thanks for the read.
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with the short explanation i see this a hole lot clearer
really enjoyed the opening almost like 'resting of your laurels' (hmm..apples  ) but i LOVE the way you wrote about how the banks/bailiffs took it all away some awesome imagery in that an the bitterness IMO shines through
cant say to much about the 'how' its written as you a way betterer writer than me anyways
the only 'but' i do have is the last 2 stanzas..i dont think they add to the poem, the tale had been told already the fall from riches to finding true wealth again
that said i aint a believer soo maybe thats why i thought it droned on a bit at the end
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(11-19-2012, 06:10 PM)billy Wrote: [quote='cidermaid' pid='106299' dateline='1353140214']
For James - Not out!
high cidermaid, the poem specially the latter part has a lot of sorrow in the lines and there are many good ones but i'm struggling to get a grip on the thing. i see the greed and the loss but i can't connect the dots. wish i could have been of better use
thanks for the read.
Hi Billy...thanks for taking the time with this one...not surprised you could not connect the dots. I had known that i had been too personally involved with this one, but from the comments it is obviously more of a mess than i had realised. If i was going to put up a poem for serious critique I prob would have chosen the 1930's woman or the pantoum and not this one. (This poem sort of arrived on this page by accident / by means of launch from a side discussion).
Thinking on this whole subject I thought it might make a good discussion: to view how we can keep our poetry real and passionate and yet keep the overly personal / emotional from making it incomprehensible......unless there is a thread on this already, in which case where is this?
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I'd say start the thread cidermaid. It sounds interesting.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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the poem has lots going for it and this is a workshop, so if you're confident you can handle the feedback i would worry about what you post here or anywhere else.
and as leanne said, you can post where you want as far as feedback goes. all we want is for ypu to take part in the site...which of course you're doing admirably.
now about that liver.
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Oh dear, I think I'm going to be very unpopular - It seems I chose the wrong poem for my first critique, which is a pity as the poet can handle words very well; and there are some truly inspired lines conjouring up some very lively images, and despite my misgivings, I smiled all the way through, contriving to, inwardly, read it in a cod Robert Newton "Long John Silver" accent - The conceit is very well sustained.
Lines like this lift the spirit:
They seized the helm. Ditched the cargo,
and broke the mast as a trade embargo.
When all was lost; she breathed her last.
Then to the sharks the crew were cast. - Rip-roaring stuff, lovely rhythm, but
“What now of those who need to sup,
Beneath this roof, take from our cup?” - is a couplet straight from Omar Khayyam
Having tripped over the tautology in the first line I was then greeted by a poetic style which would have been passé in 1800. There is a core of a good poem in there struggling to emerge from between the inversions and anachronisms. If one is writing a poem about an earlier age, it is neither neccessary nor desirable to try and mimic the prose or poetic style of the century in which the poem is set as it is liable to become a pastiche, and the contrivances used to "antique it" impose themselves over the real poem and may obscure its true worth.
Of course, I could be totally wrong, and this was meant to be a sort of Pirates of the Carribean pastiche, but I would rather it were written in more contemporary language.
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