Discussion:
Offical Sunday Sampler list for 5/17/20
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drive-by
2020-05-18 11:55:28 UTC
Permalink
Perception
by Michael Pendragon

How strange this wide-flung, waking world
Whereon we sojourn but an hour,
An endless tapestry unfurled
Before us by some higher power.

A leaf that flutters in the breeze
From trees that spread grand canopies
Beneath the dragon-clouded sky.
The Autumn chill, the April rain
The winds that sweep across the plain
The locomotive's hoboed cry
That cuts the brick and mortared range
Of towers arching toward the sun.
The hush of night when day is done...
How strange, how very strange.

Life ofttimes seems a shadowplay
Spilled forth from pools of liquid light,
How does one tell a dream by day
From those he dreams at night?
How does one gauge when life began
Or where our dayfly journey ends
Or parse the patchwork fool called Man
Whose motley, pasteboard world depends
On ropes and pulleys worked by unseen hands?

And when the final curtain falls
And silence supersedes applause
We shuffle off the darkened stage,
And as our lines fade from the page
We wonder if the playwright understands.

**********

The Eyes of Age
by Michael Pendragon

When I was young, I marveled at the sky
Rolled in the fragrant grass with wanton glee
Drew faces on the clouds that sauntered by
Caught wood nymphs peeking out of every tree
Delighted in the songs of Summer wrens
That filled the day with symphonies of joy,
The solitude of sultry Summer glens
Where black-eyed Susans watched a sun-browned boy
Enchanted by the beauty of the scene.

And every day new wonders would unfold
As Earth unrolled her tapestries of green.
In Harvestime, I watched them turn to gold
Or blaze with hearthfire's scarlet-orange flame.

Then Old Man Winter spread his robes of white
And snowflake pixies bade me join their game
While goosedown blankets welcomed me each night.

Then Spring arrived with crocus-scented mirth
And Easter buds pinks as the morning skies;
I didn't stop to think what life was worth
Or count the sparkles in my mother's eyes.

But staggered years bore heavy on my back
And worry wore my sun-blanched hair to gray,
I watch the world and wonder what I lack
And how I let life's mystery slip away.

**********

Morning Perceptions
by Will Dockery

To awaken on the morning of the journey
cross out the front lawn
to the pass.

It was a crisp blue Spring morning in Atlanta
the sky was a rich cobalt color
the skyline
seemed melancholy and sparse.

Morning perceptions
of the
mother of the hill.

The hot dog skate land pizza pie with cheese
and all the wide-eyed people
in the park.

We sat on the concrete slabs
of an abandoned highway
overlooking the sewage dunes.

There was a balmy wind
cutting from the South.

The horns were instantaneous and gone
gone as quickly
merged in with the other city sounds.

An impossible group of cars roared by
they left me disturbed.

So let them all just vanish in the night
take their bright showmanship
and egg rolls, too.

Break it up soon and go on home
the policeman told us
there would be no more jazz to hear there
that morning.

**********

Fool Me Once
by drive-by

Isn’t he the one, son,
who has been seen lurking about
our manicured lawns
and white life.

Get the truck.

Lock and load, daddy?

Lock and load, son,
we’re gonna end his run.

**********

How Do I Look?*
by NancyGene

The subject of my aggression
soon changed his perception
when I shot him in the head.

Any crimes bold like that,
presume that they are mine.

The cops tried their best to grill me
but I can do a fine crime spree,
I look sad like a basset hound
and win the case hands down;
I’ve never been confined.

I don’t do a masquerade to catch them,
so they’ll never know they’re in my snare.
But these blockheads lust visibly--
I show what I want to show,
am through when I run them through,
and hardly muss my hair.

The topic of my affliction
will cause some major friction,
from fright to mostly dead.

I’ve learned not to tip my hand,
before I plug the swines.

*With thanks to “The Object of My Affection” by Coy Poe, Jimmie Grier, and Pinky Tomlin

**********

Up Up and Away
by drive-by

“Clark, you’re so conservative,
get some steel in your spine.”

“But Lois, (adjusts glasses) I am what I am.”


(Winks at camera two)

**********

Happily Ever After
by NancyGene

You think that you will be the boss.
I suppress a hearty laugh,
for you will end up at a loss,
screaming for a polygraph.

When the ring is on my finger,
shunting you to golden sidebar,
I’ll become a freelance thinker,
only loving what, not who you are.

**********

Differences
by Karen Tellefsen

What I see is just one thing
while you see something else.
I say live and you say dead;
it doesn't have a pulse.

Is it light or is it dark?
We never shall agree.
It all depends on point of view;
the different ways we see.

**********

by xip14

Sigmund Freud once said
you can't remember smells
only be reminded of them.

**********
NancyGene
2020-05-21 01:02:31 UTC
Permalink
Post by drive-by
Perception
by Michael Pendragon
How strange this wide-flung, waking world
Whereon we sojourn but an hour,
An endless tapestry unfurled
Before us by some higher power.
abab rhyme. We paused at “wide-flung” as we haven’t heard that before—usually it is the standard “far flung.” However, could the world be flung? Arms can be flung wide and empires can be far-flung. However, you have an alliteration with wide flung and waking world, plus the whereon in the next line, so that may work. (Though we wouldn’t have used wide-flung, but we are not you.) However, we do like the unfurled tapestry idea that shows our day or our life.
Post by drive-by
A leaf that flutters in the breeze
From trees that spread grand canopies
Beneath the dragon-clouded sky.
The Autumn chill, the April rain
The winds that sweep across the plain
The locomotive's hoboed cry
That cuts the brick and mortared range
Of towers arching toward the sun.
The hush of night when day is done...
How strange, how very strange.
aabccbdeed rhyme, with internal rhyme in line 2. We like “dragon-clouded sky,” as clouds do take on that fire-breathing look. We don’t like “winds that sweep across the plain.” Oklahoma, anyone?

The locomotive’s horn does have the sound of a cry, hobo or not. Plaintive.
Post by drive-by
Life ofttimes seems a shadowplay
Spilled forth from pools of liquid light,
How does one tell a dream by day
From those he dreams at night?
How does one gauge when life began
Or where our dayfly journey ends
Or parse the patchwork fool called Man
Whose motley, pasteboard world depends
On ropes and pulleys worked by unseen hands?
ababcdcdc rhyme, which certainly varies the rhyme from stanza to stanza. Did you know that there is a Liquid Light-Up Pool Cue? We would have used a different word the second time for dreams. We looked up “dayfly,” which has a lifespan of about 2 days, which is short enough for the symbolism started in the first stanza. We also like the “ropes and pulleys” idea of life being controlled by something we cannot see—the Wizard?
Post by drive-by
And when the final curtain falls
And silence supersedes applause
We shuffle off the darkened stage,
And as our lines fade from the page
We wonder if the playwright understands.
abccd rhyme, not coordinating with the other parts of the poem. We like and simultaneously don’t like this stanza. “Life is but a stage” is too much of a cliché, and the poem didn’t start out on the stage but in the wide world viewing a tapestry. However, you have done well with lines “fade from the page,” and we also like the question of whether the “playwright understands.” Maybe there should be an veiled allusion to the stage in the first stanza so that the last brings "it all back home?"

We notice in your poems that they are open and expansive, not stuck in one scene but as if the walls are down and we see the world in the lines. It is always a pleasure to read what you write and to see how you write it.
n***@yahoo.com
2020-05-21 01:45:30 UTC
Permalink
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
Perception
by Michael Pendragon
How strange this wide-flung, waking world
Whereon we sojourn but an hour,
An endless tapestry unfurled
Before us by some higher power.
abab rhyme. We paused at “wide-flung” as we haven’t heard that before—
Probably the same way you haven't heard "sane", "legible" or "intercourse".
Michael Pendragon
2020-05-21 08:48:20 UTC
Permalink
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
Perception
by Michael Pendragon
How strange this wide-flung, waking world
Whereon we sojourn but an hour,
An endless tapestry unfurled
Before us by some higher power.
abab rhyme. We paused at “wide-flung” as we haven’t heard that before—usually it is the standard “far flung.” However, could the world be flung? Arms can be flung wide and empires can be far-flung. However, you have an alliteration with wide flung and waking world, plus the whereon in the next line, so that may work. (Though we wouldn’t have used wide-flung, but we are not you.) However, we do like the unfurled tapestry idea that shows our day or our life.
I like to flatter myself that I'm coining new words as I go... then I get to a computer, look it up, and *always* find that somebody beat me to it.
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
A leaf that flutters in the breeze
From trees that spread grand canopies
Beneath the dragon-clouded sky.
The Autumn chill, the April rain
The winds that sweep across the plain
The locomotive's hoboed cry
That cuts the brick and mortared range
Of towers arching toward the sun.
The hush of night when day is done...
How strange, how very strange.
aabccbdeed rhyme, with internal rhyme in line 2. We like “dragon-clouded sky,” as clouds do take on that fire-breathing look. We don’t like “winds that sweep across the plain.” Oklahoma, anyone?
I know... I heard it too. I tried a few substitutes, but they all sounded exactly like what they were: poor attempts to keep the line from sounding like "Oklahoma." I realized that I'm not going to come up with anything better than, or even equal to, Hammerstein, so I might as well just paraphrase it.
Post by NancyGene
The locomotive’s horn does have the sound of a cry, hobo or not. Plaintive.
Post by drive-by
Life ofttimes seems a shadowplay
Spilled forth from pools of liquid light,
How does one tell a dream by day
From those he dreams at night?
How does one gauge when life began
Or where our dayfly journey ends
Or parse the patchwork fool called Man
Whose motley, pasteboard world depends
On ropes and pulleys worked by unseen hands?
ababcdcdc rhyme, which certainly varies the rhyme from stanza to stanza. Did you know that there is a Liquid Light-Up Pool Cue?
I do now.

I just Googled it and found one for sale at Walmart.
Post by NancyGene
We would have used a different word the second time for dreams. We looked up “dayfly,” which has a lifespan of about 2 days, which is short enough for the symbolism started in the first stanza. We also like the “ropes and pulleys” idea of life being controlled by something we cannot see—the Wizard?
Post by drive-by
And when the final curtain falls
And silence supersedes applause
We shuffle off the darkened stage,
And as our lines fade from the page
We wonder if the playwright understands.
abccd rhyme, not coordinating with the other parts of the poem. We like and simultaneously don’t like this stanza. “Life is but a stage” is too much of a cliché, and the poem didn’t start out on the stage but in the wide world viewing a tapestry. However, you have done well with lines “fade from the page,” and we also like the question of whether the “playwright understands.” Maybe there should be an veiled allusion to the stage in the first stanza so that the last brings "it all back home?"
That's an idea.

My guess is that the poem is supposed to progress from the speaker's noticing the "strangeness" of the world, to his questioning its existence. I have to guess because I often had no idea what my Muse was shooting for until several months later.

She's funny that way.
Post by NancyGene
We notice in your poems that they are open and expansive, not stuck in one scene but as if the walls are down and we see the world in the lines. It is always a pleasure to read what you write and to see how you write it.
And it's always a delight to read your critiques -- thanks again, NancyGene.
Michael Pendragon
2020-05-21 09:35:12 UTC
Permalink
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
Perception
by Michael Pendragon
How strange this wide-flung, waking world
Whereon we sojourn but an hour,
An endless tapestry unfurled
Before us by some higher power.
abab rhyme. We paused at “wide-flung” as we haven’t heard that before—usually it is the standard “far flung.” However, could the world be flung? Arms can be flung wide and empires can be far-flung. However, you have an alliteration with wide flung and waking world, plus the whereon in the next line, so that may work. (Though we wouldn’t have used wide-flung, but we are not you.) However, we do like the unfurled tapestry idea that shows our day or our life.
I like to flatter myself that I'm coining new words as I go... then I get to a computer, look it up, and *always* find that somebody beat me to it.
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
A leaf that flutters in the breeze
From trees that spread grand canopies
Beneath the dragon-clouded sky.
The Autumn chill, the April rain
The winds that sweep across the plain
The locomotive's hoboed cry
That cuts the brick and mortared range
Of towers arching toward the sun.
The hush of night when day is done...
How strange, how very strange.
aabccbdeed rhyme, with internal rhyme in line 2. We like “dragon-clouded sky,” as clouds do take on that fire-breathing look. We don’t like “winds that sweep across the plain.” Oklahoma, anyone?
I know... I heard it too. I tried a few substitutes, but they all sounded exactly like what they were: poor attempts to keep the line from sounding like "Oklahoma." I realized that I'm not going to come up with anything better than, or even equal to, Hammerstein, so I might as well just paraphrase it.
Post by NancyGene
The locomotive’s horn does have the sound of a cry, hobo or not. Plaintive.
Post by drive-by
Life ofttimes seems a shadowplay
Spilled forth from pools of liquid light,
How does one tell a dream by day
From those he dreams at night?
How does one gauge when life began
Or where our dayfly journey ends
Or parse the patchwork fool called Man
Whose motley, pasteboard world depends
On ropes and pulleys worked by unseen hands?
ababcdcdc rhyme, which certainly varies the rhyme from stanza to stanza. Did you know that there is a Liquid Light-Up Pool Cue?
I do now.
I just Googled it and found one for sale at Walmart.
Post by NancyGene
We would have used a different word the second time for dreams. We looked up “dayfly,” which has a lifespan of about 2 days, which is short enough for the symbolism started in the first stanza. We also like the “ropes and pulleys” idea of life being controlled by something we cannot see—the Wizard?
Post by drive-by
And when the final curtain falls
And silence supersedes applause
We shuffle off the darkened stage,
And as our lines fade from the page
We wonder if the playwright understands.
abccd rhyme, not coordinating with the other parts of the poem. We like and simultaneously don’t like this stanza. “Life is but a stage” is too much of a cliché, and the poem didn’t start out on the stage but in the wide world viewing a tapestry. However, you have done well with lines “fade from the page,” and we also like the question of whether the “playwright understands.” Maybe there should be an veiled allusion to the stage in the first stanza so that the last brings "it all back home?"
That's an idea.
My guess is that the poem is supposed to progress from the speaker's noticing the "strangeness" of the world, to his questioning its existence. I have to guess because I often had no idea what my Muse was shooting for until several months later.
She's funny that way.
Post by NancyGene
We notice in your poems that they are open and expansive, not stuck in one scene but as if the walls are down and we see the world in the lines. It is always a pleasure to read what you write and to see how you write it.
And it's always a delight to read your critiques -- thanks again, NancyGene.
Upon further consideration...

The first half of the poem seems to be focusing primarily on movement/change. The second half switches to examples of artifice and illusion.
The question is what, if anything, links the two sections together?

I think that the link is in the transience of a world continually in flux, coupled with the brief span of human life. Nothing has any permanence -- it's all shadows, dreams, stagecraft (only a paper moon & co.). The "fading page" of life's script at the end is attempting to specifically link the flux/mutability of the first half to the illusion/artifice of the second.

The speaker points out the link by questioning how we know when/where life begins/ends. IOW: Is humankind as transient/illusory as the world around us? The final line extends the question to God: does God understand why we're here? If we exist? -- and, possibly, brings God's existence into question as well.
Michael Pendragon
2020-05-22 02:50:01 UTC
Permalink
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
Perception
by Michael Pendragon
How strange this wide-flung, waking world
Whereon we sojourn but an hour,
An endless tapestry unfurled
Before us by some higher power.
abab rhyme. We paused at “wide-flung” as we haven’t heard that before—usually it is the standard “far flung.” However, could the world be flung? Arms can be flung wide and empires can be far-flung. However, you have an alliteration with wide flung and waking world, plus the whereon in the next line, so that may work. (Though we wouldn’t have used wide-flung, but we are not you.) However, we do like the unfurled tapestry idea that shows our day or our life.
I like to flatter myself that I'm coining new words as I go... then I get to a computer, look it up, and *always* find that somebody beat me to it.
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
A leaf that flutters in the breeze
From trees that spread grand canopies
Beneath the dragon-clouded sky.
The Autumn chill, the April rain
The winds that sweep across the plain
The locomotive's hoboed cry
That cuts the brick and mortared range
Of towers arching toward the sun.
The hush of night when day is done...
How strange, how very strange.
aabccbdeed rhyme, with internal rhyme in line 2. We like “dragon-clouded sky,” as clouds do take on that fire-breathing look. We don’t like “winds that sweep across the plain.” Oklahoma, anyone?
I know... I heard it too. I tried a few substitutes, but they all sounded exactly like what they were: poor attempts to keep the line from sounding like "Oklahoma." I realized that I'm not going to come up with anything better than, or even equal to, Hammerstein, so I might as well just paraphrase it.
Post by NancyGene
The locomotive’s horn does have the sound of a cry, hobo or not. Plaintive.
Post by drive-by
Life ofttimes seems a shadowplay
Spilled forth from pools of liquid light,
How does one tell a dream by day
From those he dreams at night?
How does one gauge when life began
Or where our dayfly journey ends
Or parse the patchwork fool called Man
Whose motley, pasteboard world depends
On ropes and pulleys worked by unseen hands?
ababcdcdc rhyme, which certainly varies the rhyme from stanza to stanza. Did you know that there is a Liquid Light-Up Pool Cue?
I do now.
I just Googled it and found one for sale at Walmart.
Post by NancyGene
We would have used a different word the second time for dreams. We looked up “dayfly,” which has a lifespan of about 2 days, which is short enough for the symbolism started in the first stanza. We also like the “ropes and pulleys” idea of life being controlled by something we cannot see—the Wizard?
Post by drive-by
And when the final curtain falls
And silence supersedes applause
We shuffle off the darkened stage,
And as our lines fade from the page
We wonder if the playwright understands.
abccd rhyme, not coordinating with the other parts of the poem. We like and simultaneously don’t like this stanza. “Life is but a stage” is too much of a cliché, and the poem didn’t start out on the stage but in the wide world viewing a tapestry. However, you have done well with lines “fade from the page,” and we also like the question of whether the “playwright understands.” Maybe there should be an veiled allusion to the stage in the first stanza so that the last brings "it all back home?"
That's an idea.
My guess is that the poem is supposed to progress from the speaker's noticing the "strangeness" of the world, to his questioning its existence. I have to guess because I often had no idea what my Muse was shooting for until several months later.
She's funny that way.
Post by NancyGene
We notice in your poems that they are open and expansive, not stuck in one scene but as if the walls are down and we see the world in the lines. It is always a pleasure to read what you write and to see how you write it.
And it's always a delight to read your critiques -- thanks again, NancyGene.
Upon further consideration...
The first half of the poem seems to be focusing primarily on movement/change. The second half switches to examples of artifice and illusion.
The question is what, if anything, links the two sections together?
I think that the link is in the transience of a world continually in flux, coupled with the brief span of human life. Nothing has any permanence -- it's all shadows, dreams, stagecraft (only a paper moon & co.). The "fading page" of life's script at the end is attempting to specifically link the flux/mutability of the first half to the illusion/artifice of the second.
The speaker points out the link by questioning how we know when/where life begins/ends. IOW: Is humankind as transient/illusory as the world around us? The final line extends the question to God: does God understand why we're here? If we exist? -- and, possibly, brings God's existence into question as well.
After I signed off last night, my Muse explained to me that the allusion to "Oklahoma" is meant to foreshadow the switch to theater in the second half of the poem.

I realize that my relationship with my Muse may strike some people as odd, and I'd like to make it clear that I don't hear voices or anything... Her communications are more like thoughts that suddenly burst into my consciousness from some unknown, numinous source.
NancyGene
2020-05-23 20:16:20 UTC
Permalink
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
Perception
by Michael Pendragon
How strange this wide-flung, waking world
Whereon we sojourn but an hour,
An endless tapestry unfurled
Before us by some higher power.
abab rhyme. We paused at “wide-flung” as we haven’t heard that before—usually it is the standard “far flung.” However, could the world be flung? Arms can be flung wide and empires can be far-flung. However, you have an alliteration with wide flung and waking world, plus the whereon in the next line, so that may work. (Though we wouldn’t have used wide-flung, but we are not you.) However, we do like the unfurled tapestry idea that shows our day or our life.
I like to flatter myself that I'm coining new words as I go... then I get to a computer, look it up, and *always* find that somebody beat me to it.
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
A leaf that flutters in the breeze
From trees that spread grand canopies
Beneath the dragon-clouded sky.
The Autumn chill, the April rain
The winds that sweep across the plain
The locomotive's hoboed cry
That cuts the brick and mortared range
Of towers arching toward the sun.
The hush of night when day is done...
How strange, how very strange.
aabccbdeed rhyme, with internal rhyme in line 2. We like “dragon-clouded sky,” as clouds do take on that fire-breathing look. We don’t like “winds that sweep across the plain.” Oklahoma, anyone?
I know... I heard it too. I tried a few substitutes, but they all sounded exactly like what they were: poor attempts to keep the line from sounding like "Oklahoma." I realized that I'm not going to come up with anything better than, or even equal to, Hammerstein, so I might as well just paraphrase it.
Post by NancyGene
The locomotive’s horn does have the sound of a cry, hobo or not. Plaintive.
Post by drive-by
Life ofttimes seems a shadowplay
Spilled forth from pools of liquid light,
How does one tell a dream by day
From those he dreams at night?
How does one gauge when life began
Or where our dayfly journey ends
Or parse the patchwork fool called Man
Whose motley, pasteboard world depends
On ropes and pulleys worked by unseen hands?
ababcdcdc rhyme, which certainly varies the rhyme from stanza to stanza. Did you know that there is a Liquid Light-Up Pool Cue?
I do now.
I just Googled it and found one for sale at Walmart.
Post by NancyGene
We would have used a different word the second time for dreams. We looked up “dayfly,” which has a lifespan of about 2 days, which is short enough for the symbolism started in the first stanza. We also like the “ropes and pulleys” idea of life being controlled by something we cannot see—the Wizard?
Post by drive-by
And when the final curtain falls
And silence supersedes applause
We shuffle off the darkened stage,
And as our lines fade from the page
We wonder if the playwright understands.
abccd rhyme, not coordinating with the other parts of the poem. We like and simultaneously don’t like this stanza. “Life is but a stage” is too much of a cliché, and the poem didn’t start out on the stage but in the wide world viewing a tapestry. However, you have done well with lines “fade from the page,” and we also like the question of whether the “playwright understands.” Maybe there should be an veiled allusion to the stage in the first stanza so that the last brings "it all back home?"
That's an idea.
My guess is that the poem is supposed to progress from the speaker's noticing the "strangeness" of the world, to his questioning its existence. I have to guess because I often had no idea what my Muse was shooting for until several months later.
She's funny that way.
Post by NancyGene
We notice in your poems that they are open and expansive, not stuck in one scene but as if the walls are down and we see the world in the lines. It is always a pleasure to read what you write and to see how you write it.
And it's always a delight to read your critiques -- thanks again, NancyGene.
Upon further consideration...
The first half of the poem seems to be focusing primarily on movement/change. The second half switches to examples of artifice and illusion.
The question is what, if anything, links the two sections together?
I think that the link is in the transience of a world continually in flux, coupled with the brief span of human life. Nothing has any permanence -- it's all shadows, dreams, stagecraft (only a paper moon & co.). The "fading page" of life's script at the end is attempting to specifically link the flux/mutability of the first half to the illusion/artifice of the second.
The speaker points out the link by questioning how we know when/where life begins/ends. IOW: Is humankind as transient/illusory as the world around us? The final line extends the question to God: does God understand why we're here? If we exist? -- and, possibly, brings God's existence into question as well.
After I signed off last night, my Muse explained to me that the allusion to "Oklahoma" is meant to foreshadow the switch to theater in the second half of the poem.
Okay, we will have to look for those signs in future poems from you. A stage direction, if you will. A surrey from the fringe elements.
Post by Michael Pendragon
I realize that my relationship with my Muse may strike some people as odd, and I'd like to make it clear that I don't hear voices or anything... Her communications are more like thoughts that suddenly burst into my consciousness from some unknown, numinous source.
You may be communicating with Joan of Arc. Do you feel any religious stirrings or the desire to lead an army?
Michael Pendragon
2020-05-24 04:28:27 UTC
Permalink
Post by NancyGene
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
Perception
by Michael Pendragon
How strange this wide-flung, waking world
Whereon we sojourn but an hour,
An endless tapestry unfurled
Before us by some higher power.
abab rhyme. We paused at “wide-flung” as we haven’t heard that before—usually it is the standard “far flung.” However, could the world be flung? Arms can be flung wide and empires can be far-flung. However, you have an alliteration with wide flung and waking world, plus the whereon in the next line, so that may work. (Though we wouldn’t have used wide-flung, but we are not you.) However, we do like the unfurled tapestry idea that shows our day or our life.
I like to flatter myself that I'm coining new words as I go... then I get to a computer, look it up, and *always* find that somebody beat me to it.
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
A leaf that flutters in the breeze
From trees that spread grand canopies
Beneath the dragon-clouded sky.
The Autumn chill, the April rain
The winds that sweep across the plain
The locomotive's hoboed cry
That cuts the brick and mortared range
Of towers arching toward the sun.
The hush of night when day is done...
How strange, how very strange.
aabccbdeed rhyme, with internal rhyme in line 2. We like “dragon-clouded sky,” as clouds do take on that fire-breathing look. We don’t like “winds that sweep across the plain.” Oklahoma, anyone?
I know... I heard it too. I tried a few substitutes, but they all sounded exactly like what they were: poor attempts to keep the line from sounding like "Oklahoma." I realized that I'm not going to come up with anything better than, or even equal to, Hammerstein, so I might as well just paraphrase it.
Post by NancyGene
The locomotive’s horn does have the sound of a cry, hobo or not. Plaintive.
Post by drive-by
Life ofttimes seems a shadowplay
Spilled forth from pools of liquid light,
How does one tell a dream by day
From those he dreams at night?
How does one gauge when life began
Or where our dayfly journey ends
Or parse the patchwork fool called Man
Whose motley, pasteboard world depends
On ropes and pulleys worked by unseen hands?
ababcdcdc rhyme, which certainly varies the rhyme from stanza to stanza. Did you know that there is a Liquid Light-Up Pool Cue?
I do now.
I just Googled it and found one for sale at Walmart.
Post by NancyGene
We would have used a different word the second time for dreams. We looked up “dayfly,” which has a lifespan of about 2 days, which is short enough for the symbolism started in the first stanza. We also like the “ropes and pulleys” idea of life being controlled by something we cannot see—the Wizard?
Post by drive-by
And when the final curtain falls
And silence supersedes applause
We shuffle off the darkened stage,
And as our lines fade from the page
We wonder if the playwright understands.
abccd rhyme, not coordinating with the other parts of the poem. We like and simultaneously don’t like this stanza. “Life is but a stage” is too much of a cliché, and the poem didn’t start out on the stage but in the wide world viewing a tapestry. However, you have done well with lines “fade from the page,” and we also like the question of whether the “playwright understands.” Maybe there should be an veiled allusion to the stage in the first stanza so that the last brings "it all back home?"
That's an idea.
My guess is that the poem is supposed to progress from the speaker's noticing the "strangeness" of the world, to his questioning its existence. I have to guess because I often had no idea what my Muse was shooting for until several months later.
She's funny that way.
Post by NancyGene
We notice in your poems that they are open and expansive, not stuck in one scene but as if the walls are down and we see the world in the lines. It is always a pleasure to read what you write and to see how you write it.
And it's always a delight to read your critiques -- thanks again, NancyGene.
Upon further consideration...
The first half of the poem seems to be focusing primarily on movement/change. The second half switches to examples of artifice and illusion.
The question is what, if anything, links the two sections together?
I think that the link is in the transience of a world continually in flux, coupled with the brief span of human life. Nothing has any permanence -- it's all shadows, dreams, stagecraft (only a paper moon & co.). The "fading page" of life's script at the end is attempting to specifically link the flux/mutability of the first half to the illusion/artifice of the second.
The speaker points out the link by questioning how we know when/where life begins/ends. IOW: Is humankind as transient/illusory as the world around us? The final line extends the question to God: does God understand why we're here? If we exist? -- and, possibly, brings God's existence into question as well.
After I signed off last night, my Muse explained to me that the allusion to "Oklahoma" is meant to foreshadow the switch to theater in the second half of the poem.
Okay, we will have to look for those signs in future poems from you. A stage direction, if you will. A surrey from the fringe elements.
Post by Michael Pendragon
I realize that my relationship with my Muse may strike some people as odd, and I'd like to make it clear that I don't hear voices or anything... Her communications are more like thoughts that suddenly burst into my consciousness from some unknown, numinous source.
You may be communicating with Joan of Arc. Do you feel any religious stirrings or the desire to lead an army?
No... that would be silly. I just fantasize about taking over the world.
Peter J Ross
2020-06-05 20:15:59 UTC
Permalink
In alt.arts.poetry.comments on Sat, 23 May 2020 21:28:27 -0700 (PDT),
Post by Michael Pendragon
No... that would be silly. I just fantasize about taking over the world.
To paraphrase Tom Baker (in a line written by Douglas Adams):

If you took over the world, what would you do with it? Apart from
SHOUTING at it, of course?
--
PJR :-)

μεγάλη ἡ ἀλήθεια καὶ ὑπερισχύει.
- Esdras A 4.41
Michael Pendragon
2020-06-06 03:03:24 UTC
Permalink
Post by Peter J Ross
In alt.arts.poetry.comments on Sat, 23 May 2020 21:28:27 -0700 (PDT),
Post by Michael Pendragon
No... that would be silly. I just fantasize about taking over the world.
If you took over the world, what would you do with it? Apart from
SHOUTING at it, of course?
I would create a utopian society in which there is no war, hunger, poverty, prejudice, pollution or crime.

I would do away with money (and barter). Everyone would work to the best of his/her ability, and everyone would receive similar necessities and comfort goods from the government.

Our first job would be to build underground dwellings, and to restore the Earth's surface to a controlled natural state. We would, in effect, become caretakers of a "Garden of Eden" that spans the entire globe.*

*As a precautionary measure against becoming Morlocks, everyone would work above ground, only retiring to their underground homes for dinner and sleep.

Earth's garden would be divided into arable land spaces for growing food crops, and wildlife preserves. Undersea farming would also be cultivated.

Animal life would be held as valuable as human life, and killing, eating or wearing animal products would be punishable by death.

Law breakers and layabouts would be terminated.

To recap what should be obvious at this point:

1) My One World/One World Leader form of government would automatically render war a thing of the past, as there will be no other countries to make war with.

2) Hunger would end, because *all* of our citizens would be receiving sufficient nourishment from the Government -- both in terms of rationed groceries and meal tickets to our finest restaurants.

3) Poverty would naturally end with the elimination of wealth. Everyone will receive equal rations and similar living quarters with all of the same amenities.

4) Racial/ethnic prejudice would be eradicated, as people of all creeds and colors will be living and working side by side for a common cause.

5) Energy sources which cause pollution would be immediately stopped. Energy sources would be primarily solar, wind and water (plus natural heat from living in the earth). Disposable paper, and all plastic/non-biodegradable items would no longer be manufactured.

6) Crime would end for the following reasons: a) in a classless society where everyone possesses the same things, lives in the same houses, has all of their needs fulfilled by the Government would have no need for criminal activity; b) law breakers would be immediately terminated.
k***@gmail.com
2020-06-06 17:15:30 UTC
Permalink
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Peter J Ross
In alt.arts.poetry.comments on Sat, 23 May 2020 21:28:27 -0700 (PDT),
Post by Michael Pendragon
No... that would be silly. I just fantasize about taking over the world.
If you took over the world, what would you do with it? Apart from
SHOUTING at it, of course?
I would create a utopian society in which there is no war, hunger, poverty, prejudice, pollution or crime.
I would do away with money (and barter). Everyone would work to the best of his/her ability, and everyone would receive similar necessities and comfort goods from the government.
Our first job would be to build underground dwellings, and to restore the Earth's surface to a controlled natural state. We would, in effect, become caretakers of a "Garden of Eden" that spans the entire globe.*
*As a precautionary measure against becoming Morlocks, everyone would work above ground, only retiring to their underground homes for dinner and sleep.
Earth's garden would be divided into arable land spaces for growing food crops, and wildlife preserves. Undersea farming would also be cultivated.
Animal life would be held as valuable as human life, and killing, eating or wearing animal products would be punishable by death.
Law breakers and layabouts would be terminated.
1) My One World/One World Leader form of government would automatically render war a thing of the past, as there will be no other countries to make war with.
2) Hunger would end, because *all* of our citizens would be receiving sufficient nourishment from the Government -- both in terms of rationed groceries and meal tickets to our finest restaurants.
3) Poverty would naturally end with the elimination of wealth. Everyone will receive equal rations and similar living quarters with all of the same amenities.
4) Racial/ethnic prejudice would be eradicated, as people of all creeds and colors will be living and working side by side for a common cause.
5) Energy sources which cause pollution would be immediately stopped. Energy sources would be primarily solar, wind and water (plus natural heat from living in the earth). Disposable paper, and all plastic/non-biodegradable items would no longer be manufactured.
6) Crime would end for the following reasons: a) in a classless society where everyone possesses the same things, lives in the same houses, has all of their needs fulfilled by the Government would have no need for criminal activity; b) law breakers would be immediately terminated.
Lovely pipe dream, but true benevolent dictators are rare. The biggest problem is people; people are selfish, lazy and unpredictable. Communistic society typically fail. Maybe a computer program would make the best leader.

Under ground housing is an interesting idea, less heating and cooling are needed. Currently these sort of houses are built into hillsides.

There would necessarily need to a transition time of several years between polluting to nonpolluting energy.
Peter J Ross
2020-06-06 20:06:25 UTC
Permalink
In alt.arts.poetry.comments on Fri, 5 Jun 2020 20:03:24 -0700 (PDT),
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Peter J Ross
In alt.arts.poetry.comments on Sat, 23 May 2020 21:28:27 -0700
Post by Michael Pendragon
No... that would be silly. I just fantasize about taking over the world.
If you took over the world, what would you do with it? Apart from
SHOUTING at it, of course?
I would
<snip>

So you'd be yet another Marxist. How boring!
--
PJR :-)

μεγάλη ἡ ἀλήθεια καὶ ὑπερισχύει.
- Esdras A 4.41
k***@gmail.com
2020-06-06 20:40:30 UTC
Permalink
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by NancyGene
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
Perception
by Michael Pendragon
How strange this wide-flung, waking world
Whereon we sojourn but an hour,
An endless tapestry unfurled
Before us by some higher power.
abab rhyme. We paused at “wide-flung” as we haven’t heard that before—usually it is the standard “far flung.” However, could the world be flung? Arms can be flung wide and empires can be far-flung. However, you have an alliteration with wide flung and waking world, plus the whereon in the next line, so that may work. (Though we wouldn’t have used wide-flung, but we are not you.) However, we do like the unfurled tapestry idea that shows our day or our life.
I like to flatter myself that I'm coining new words as I go... then I get to a computer, look it up, and *always* find that somebody beat me to it.
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
A leaf that flutters in the breeze
From trees that spread grand canopies
Beneath the dragon-clouded sky.
The Autumn chill, the April rain
The winds that sweep across the plain
The locomotive's hoboed cry
That cuts the brick and mortared range
Of towers arching toward the sun.
The hush of night when day is done...
How strange, how very strange.
aabccbdeed rhyme, with internal rhyme in line 2. We like “dragon-clouded sky,” as clouds do take on that fire-breathing look. We don’t like “winds that sweep across the plain.” Oklahoma, anyone?
I know... I heard it too. I tried a few substitutes, but they all sounded exactly like what they were: poor attempts to keep the line from sounding like "Oklahoma." I realized that I'm not going to come up with anything better than, or even equal to, Hammerstein, so I might as well just paraphrase it.
Post by NancyGene
The locomotive’s horn does have the sound of a cry, hobo or not. Plaintive.
Post by drive-by
Life ofttimes seems a shadowplay
Spilled forth from pools of liquid light,
How does one tell a dream by day
From those he dreams at night?
How does one gauge when life began
Or where our dayfly journey ends
Or parse the patchwork fool called Man
Whose motley, pasteboard world depends
On ropes and pulleys worked by unseen hands?
ababcdcdc rhyme, which certainly varies the rhyme from stanza to stanza. Did you know that there is a Liquid Light-Up Pool Cue?
I do now.
I just Googled it and found one for sale at Walmart.
Post by NancyGene
We would have used a different word the second time for dreams. We looked up “dayfly,” which has a lifespan of about 2 days, which is short enough for the symbolism started in the first stanza. We also like the “ropes and pulleys” idea of life being controlled by something we cannot see—the Wizard?
Post by drive-by
And when the final curtain falls
And silence supersedes applause
We shuffle off the darkened stage,
And as our lines fade from the page
We wonder if the playwright understands.
abccd rhyme, not coordinating with the other parts of the poem. We like and simultaneously don’t like this stanza. “Life is but a stage” is too much of a cliché, and the poem didn’t start out on the stage but in the wide world viewing a tapestry. However, you have done well with lines “fade from the page,” and we also like the question of whether the “playwright understands.” Maybe there should be an veiled allusion to the stage in the first stanza so that the last brings "it all back home?"
That's an idea.
My guess is that the poem is supposed to progress from the speaker's noticing the "strangeness" of the world, to his questioning its existence. I have to guess because I often had no idea what my Muse was shooting for until several months later.
She's funny that way.
Post by NancyGene
We notice in your poems that they are open and expansive, not stuck in one scene but as if the walls are down and we see the world in the lines. It is always a pleasure to read what you write and to see how you write it.
And it's always a delight to read your critiques -- thanks again, NancyGene.
Upon further consideration...
The first half of the poem seems to be focusing primarily on movement/change. The second half switches to examples of artifice and illusion.
The question is what, if anything, links the two sections together?
I think that the link is in the transience of a world continually in flux, coupled with the brief span of human life. Nothing has any permanence -- it's all shadows, dreams, stagecraft (only a paper moon & co.). The "fading page" of life's script at the end is attempting to specifically link the flux/mutability of the first half to the illusion/artifice of the second.
The speaker points out the link by questioning how we know when/where life begins/ends. IOW: Is humankind as transient/illusory as the world around us? The final line extends the question to God: does God understand why we're here? If we exist? -- and, possibly, brings God's existence into question as well.
After I signed off last night, my Muse explained to me that the allusion to "Oklahoma" is meant to foreshadow the switch to theater in the second half of the poem.
Okay, we will have to look for those signs in future poems from you. A stage direction, if you will. A surrey from the fringe elements.
Post by Michael Pendragon
I realize that my relationship with my Muse may strike some people as odd, and I'd like to make it clear that I don't hear voices or anything... Her communications are more like thoughts that suddenly burst into my consciousness from some unknown, numinous source.
You may be communicating with Joan of Arc. Do you feel any religious stirrings or the desire to lead an army?
No... that would be silly. I just fantasize about taking over the world.

ME
2020-06-06 20:44:03 UTC
Permalink
Post by k***@gmail.com
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by NancyGene
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
Perception
by Michael Pendragon
How strange this wide-flung, waking world
Whereon we sojourn but an hour,
An endless tapestry unfurled
Before us by some higher power.
abab rhyme. We paused at “wide-flung” as we haven’t heard that before—usually it is the standard “far flung.” However, could the world be flung? Arms can be flung wide and empires can be far-flung. However, you have an alliteration with wide flung and waking world, plus the whereon in the next line, so that may work. (Though we wouldn’t have used wide-flung, but we are not you.) However, we do like the unfurled tapestry idea that shows our day or our life.
I like to flatter myself that I'm coining new words as I go... then I get to a computer, look it up, and *always* find that somebody beat me to it.
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
A leaf that flutters in the breeze
From trees that spread grand canopies
Beneath the dragon-clouded sky.
The Autumn chill, the April rain
The winds that sweep across the plain
The locomotive's hoboed cry
That cuts the brick and mortared range
Of towers arching toward the sun.
The hush of night when day is done...
How strange, how very strange.
aabccbdeed rhyme, with internal rhyme in line 2. We like “dragon-clouded sky,” as clouds do take on that fire-breathing look. We don’t like “winds that sweep across the plain.” Oklahoma, anyone?
I know... I heard it too. I tried a few substitutes, but they all sounded exactly like what they were: poor attempts to keep the line from sounding like "Oklahoma." I realized that I'm not going to come up with anything better than, or even equal to, Hammerstein, so I might as well just paraphrase it.
Post by NancyGene
The locomotive’s horn does have the sound of a cry, hobo or not. Plaintive.
Post by drive-by
Life ofttimes seems a shadowplay
Spilled forth from pools of liquid light,
How does one tell a dream by day
From those he dreams at night?
How does one gauge when life began
Or where our dayfly journey ends
Or parse the patchwork fool called Man
Whose motley, pasteboard world depends
On ropes and pulleys worked by unseen hands?
ababcdcdc rhyme, which certainly varies the rhyme from stanza to stanza. Did you know that there is a Liquid Light-Up Pool Cue?
I do now.
I just Googled it and found one for sale at Walmart.
Post by NancyGene
We would have used a different word the second time for dreams. We looked up “dayfly,” which has a lifespan of about 2 days, which is short enough for the symbolism started in the first stanza. We also like the “ropes and pulleys” idea of life being controlled by something we cannot see—the Wizard?
Post by drive-by
And when the final curtain falls
And silence supersedes applause
We shuffle off the darkened stage,
And as our lines fade from the page
We wonder if the playwright understands.
abccd rhyme, not coordinating with the other parts of the poem. We like and simultaneously don’t like this stanza. “Life is but a stage” is too much of a cliché, and the poem didn’t start out on the stage but in the wide world viewing a tapestry. However, you have done well with lines “fade from the page,” and we also like the question of whether the “playwright understands.” Maybe there should be an veiled allusion to the stage in the first stanza so that the last brings "it all back home?"
That's an idea.
My guess is that the poem is supposed to progress from the speaker's noticing the "strangeness" of the world, to his questioning its existence. I have to guess because I often had no idea what my Muse was shooting for until several months later.
She's funny that way.
Post by NancyGene
We notice in your poems that they are open and expansive, not stuck in one scene but as if the walls are down and we see the world in the lines. It is always a pleasure to read what you write and to see how you write it.
And it's always a delight to read your critiques -- thanks again, NancyGene.
Upon further consideration...
The first half of the poem seems to be focusing primarily on movement/change. The second half switches to examples of artifice and illusion.
The question is what, if anything, links the two sections together?
I think that the link is in the transience of a world continually in flux, coupled with the brief span of human life. Nothing has any permanence -- it's all shadows, dreams, stagecraft (only a paper moon & co.). The "fading page" of life's script at the end is attempting to specifically link the flux/mutability of the first half to the illusion/artifice of the second.
The speaker points out the link by questioning how we know when/where life begins/ends. IOW: Is humankind as transient/illusory as the world around us? The final line extends the question to God: does God understand why we're here? If we exist? -- and, possibly, brings God's existence into question as well.
After I signed off last night, my Muse explained to me that the allusion to "Oklahoma" is meant to foreshadow the switch to theater in the second half of the poem.
Okay, we will have to look for those signs in future poems from you. A stage direction, if you will. A surrey from the fringe elements.
Post by Michael Pendragon
I realize that my relationship with my Muse may strike some people as odd, and I'd like to make it clear that I don't hear voices or anything... Her communications are more like thoughts that suddenly burst into my consciousness from some unknown, numinous source.
You may be communicating with Joan of Arc. Do you feel any religious stirrings or the desire to lead an army?
No... that would be silly. I just fantasize about taking over the world.
http://youtu.be/GBkT19uH2RQ
Omg. That cracked ME up!!
Thank you Karen.
Zod
2020-06-06 21:28:00 UTC
Permalink
Post by Michael Pendragon
2) Hunger would end, because *all* of our citizens would be receiving sufficient nourishment from the Government -- both in terms of rationed groceries and meal tickets to our finest restaurants.
3) Poverty would naturally end with the elimination of wealth. Everyone will receive equal rations and similar living quarters with all of the same amenities.
Okay, sounds like a plan....

Ha ha ha....
Michael Pendragon
2020-06-07 05:10:24 UTC
Permalink
Post by Zod
Post by Michael Pendragon
2) Hunger would end, because *all* of our citizens would be receiving sufficient nourishment from the Government -- both in terms of rationed groceries and meal tickets to our finest restaurants.
3) Poverty would naturally end with the elimination of wealth. Everyone will receive equal rations and similar living quarters with all of the same amenities.
Okay, sounds like a plan....
Ha ha ha....
"Law breakers and layabouts would be terminated."

k***@gmail.com
2020-05-21 12:51:55 UTC
Permalink
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
Perception
by Michael Pendragon
How strange this wide-flung, waking world
Whereon we sojourn but an hour,
An endless tapestry unfurled
Before us by some higher power.
abab rhyme. We paused at “wide-flung” as we haven’t heard that before—usually it is the standard “far flung.” However, could the world be flung? Arms can be flung wide and empires can be far-flung. However, you have an alliteration with wide flung and waking world, plus the whereon in the next line, so that may work. (Though we wouldn’t have used wide-flung, but we are not you.) However, we do like the unfurled tapestry idea that shows our day or our life.
Post by drive-by
A leaf that flutters in the breeze
From trees that spread grand canopies
Beneath the dragon-clouded sky.
The Autumn chill, the April rain
The winds that sweep across the plain
The locomotive's hoboed cry
That cuts the brick and mortared range
Of towers arching toward the sun.
The hush of night when day is done...
How strange, how very strange.
aabccbdeed rhyme, with internal rhyme in line 2. We like “dragon-clouded sky,” as clouds do take on that fire-breathing look. We don’t like “winds that sweep across the plain.” Oklahoma, anyone?
The locomotive’s horn does have the sound of a cry, hobo or not. Plaintive.
Post by drive-by
Life ofttimes seems a shadowplay
Spilled forth from pools of liquid light,
How does one tell a dream by day
From those he dreams at night?
How does one gauge when life began
Or where our dayfly journey ends
Or parse the patchwork fool called Man
Whose motley, pasteboard world depends
On ropes and pulleys worked by unseen hands?
ababcdcdc rhyme, which certainly varies the rhyme from stanza to stanza. Did you know that there is a Liquid Light-Up Pool Cue? We would have used a different word the second time for dreams. We looked up “dayfly,” which has a lifespan of about 2 days, which is short enough for the symbolism started in the first stanza. We also like the “ropes and pulleys” idea of life being controlled by something we cannot see—the Wizard?
Post by drive-by
And when the final curtain falls
And silence supersedes applause
We shuffle off the darkened stage,
And as our lines fade from the page
We wonder if the playwright understands.
abccd rhyme, not coordinating with the other parts of the poem. We like and simultaneously don’t like this stanza. “Life is but a stage” is too much of a cliché, and the poem didn’t start out on the stage but in the wide world viewing a tapestry. However, you have done well with lines “fade from the page,” and we also like the question of whether the “playwright understands.” Maybe there should be an veiled allusion to the stage in the first stanza so that the last brings "it all back home?"
We notice in your poems that they are open and expansive, not stuck in one scene but as if the walls are down and we see the world in the lines. It is always a pleasure to read what you write and to see how you write it.
I've been enjoying these also.
Michael Pendragon
2020-05-22 03:05:16 UTC
Permalink
Post by k***@gmail.com
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
Perception
by Michael Pendragon
How strange this wide-flung, waking world
Whereon we sojourn but an hour,
An endless tapestry unfurled
Before us by some higher power.
abab rhyme. We paused at “wide-flung” as we haven’t heard that before—usually it is the standard “far flung.” However, could the world be flung? Arms can be flung wide and empires can be far-flung. However, you have an alliteration with wide flung and waking world, plus the whereon in the next line, so that may work. (Though we wouldn’t have used wide-flung, but we are not you.) However, we do like the unfurled tapestry idea that shows our day or our life.
Post by drive-by
A leaf that flutters in the breeze
From trees that spread grand canopies
Beneath the dragon-clouded sky.
The Autumn chill, the April rain
The winds that sweep across the plain
The locomotive's hoboed cry
That cuts the brick and mortared range
Of towers arching toward the sun.
The hush of night when day is done...
How strange, how very strange.
aabccbdeed rhyme, with internal rhyme in line 2. We like “dragon-clouded sky,” as clouds do take on that fire-breathing look. We don’t like “winds that sweep across the plain.” Oklahoma, anyone?
The locomotive’s horn does have the sound of a cry, hobo or not. Plaintive.
Post by drive-by
Life ofttimes seems a shadowplay
Spilled forth from pools of liquid light,
How does one tell a dream by day
From those he dreams at night?
How does one gauge when life began
Or where our dayfly journey ends
Or parse the patchwork fool called Man
Whose motley, pasteboard world depends
On ropes and pulleys worked by unseen hands?
ababcdcdc rhyme, which certainly varies the rhyme from stanza to stanza. Did you know that there is a Liquid Light-Up Pool Cue? We would have used a different word the second time for dreams. We looked up “dayfly,” which has a lifespan of about 2 days, which is short enough for the symbolism started in the first stanza. We also like the “ropes and pulleys” idea of life being controlled by something we cannot see—the Wizard?
Post by drive-by
And when the final curtain falls
And silence supersedes applause
We shuffle off the darkened stage,
And as our lines fade from the page
We wonder if the playwright understands.
abccd rhyme, not coordinating with the other parts of the poem. We like and simultaneously don’t like this stanza. “Life is but a stage” is too much of a cliché, and the poem didn’t start out on the stage but in the wide world viewing a tapestry. However, you have done well with lines “fade from the page,” and we also like the question of whether the “playwright understands.” Maybe there should be an veiled allusion to the stage in the first stanza so that the last brings "it all back home?"
We notice in your poems that they are open and expansive, not stuck in one scene but as if the walls are down and we see the world in the lines. It is always a pleasure to read what you write and to see how you write it.
I've been enjoying these also.
Thanks, Karen.
NancyGene
2020-05-21 10:07:21 UTC
Permalink
Post by drive-by
The Eyes of Age
by Michael Pendragon
When I was young, I marveled at the sky
Rolled in the fragrant grass with wanton glee
Drew faces on the clouds that sauntered by
Caught wood nymphs peeking out of every tree
Delighted in the songs of Summer wrens
That filled the day with symphonies of joy,
The solitude of sultry Summer glens
Where black-eyed Susans watched a sun-browned boy
Enchanted by the beauty of the scene.
ababcdcde rhyme. We notice that you put in only one comma at the end of a line—they don’t need them anyway. We are not sure that we like “sauntered” as describing what clouds do, but of course they can’t drift by in a poem! The black-eyed Susans watching the browned boy is nice! You have two lines in a row that start with a T.
Post by drive-by
And every day new wonders would unfold
As Earth unrolled her tapestries of green.
In Harvestime, I watched them turn to gold
Or blaze with hearthfire's scarlet-orange flame.
abab rhyme. Maybe wonders could do something other than unfold, although another word wouldn’t necessarily rhyme with gold. We like the hearthfire colors. You have two lines in a row that start with “A.” No more tapestries! You already used that in your “Perception” poem!
Post by drive-by
Then Old Man Winter spread his robes of white
And snowflake pixies bade me join their game
While goosedown blankets welcomed me each night.
aca rhyme. We can’t think of another phrase for Old Man Winter but rather like that in the eyes and words of a small boy. Snowflake pixies is another fine visual.
Post by drive-by
Then Spring arrived with crocus-scented mirth
And Easter buds pinks as the morning skies;
I didn't stop to think what life was worth
Or count the sparkles in my mother's eyes.
abab rhyme. The introduction of the “didn’t stop to think” and consideration of closely seeing his mother introduces the last stanza, although “didn’t stop to think” might be reworded. You have two stanzas in a row that start with “Then.” We would use another word in one for variety and to avoid the feeling that one has already read the line.
Post by drive-by
But staggered years bore heavy on my back
And worry wore my sun-blanched hair to gray,
I watch the world and wonder what I lack
And how I let life's mystery slip away.
Which brings the poem back to the first stanza of the author looking back. “When I was a child, I spoke as a child…” We like the “staggered years” line, which is sad.

Is he looking back at “life’s mystery” or life’s wonder and whimsy? Probably all of those. Again, you have written a sweeping poem, with changing scenes and seasons. We found the poem to be poignant and moving.
Michael Pendragon
2020-05-22 03:04:54 UTC
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Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
The Eyes of Age
by Michael Pendragon
When I was young, I marveled at the sky
Rolled in the fragrant grass with wanton glee
Drew faces on the clouds that sauntered by
Caught wood nymphs peeking out of every tree
Delighted in the songs of Summer wrens
That filled the day with symphonies of joy,
The solitude of sultry Summer glens
Where black-eyed Susans watched a sun-browned boy
Enchanted by the beauty of the scene.
ababcdcde rhyme. We notice that you put in only one comma at the end of a line—they don’t need them anyway. We are not sure that we like “sauntered” as describing what clouds do, but of course they can’t drift by in a poem!
It's a bit of anthropomorphism that, hopefully, isn't too big of a stretch for clouds. If clouds were to walk across the sky in the Summer of my childhood, I like to think they'd be taking a leisurely stroll.
The black-eyed Susans watching the browned boy is nice! You have two lines in a row that start with a T.
Granted. At least it's not as bad as having two "The"s or two "That"s.
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
And every day new wonders would unfold
As Earth unrolled her tapestries of green.
In Harvestime, I watched them turn to gold
Or blaze with hearthfire's scarlet-orange flame.
abab rhyme. Maybe wonders could do something other than unfold, although another word wouldn’t necessarily rhyme with gold. We like the hearthfire colors. You have two lines in a row that start with “A.” No more tapestries! You already used that in your “Perception” poem!
Now, that's not fair! :-) Each poem should be considered as a separate entity.
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
Then Old Man Winter spread his robes of white
And snowflake pixies bade me join their game
While goosedown blankets welcomed me each night.
aca rhyme. We can’t think of another phrase for Old Man Winter but rather like that in the eyes and words of a small boy. Snowflake pixies is another fine visual.
Post by drive-by
Then Spring arrived with crocus-scented mirth
And Easter buds pinks as the morning skies;
I didn't stop to think what life was worth
Or count the sparkles in my mother's eyes.
abab rhyme. The introduction of the “didn’t stop to think” and consideration of closely seeing his mother introduces the last stanza, although “didn’t stop to think” might be reworded. You have two stanzas in a row that start with “Then.”
Ruh-roh! I'm slipping.
We would use another word in one for variety and to avoid the feeling that one has already read the line.
I'd considered doing that, but wanted to stress the almost mechanical repetition as a means of reflecting the banality of the inevitable passage of time. I'm afraid I may have succeeded a little too well in that regard.
Post by NancyGene
Post by drive-by
But staggered years bore heavy on my back
And worry wore my sun-blanched hair to gray,
I watch the world and wonder what I lack
And how I let life's mystery slip away.
Which brings the poem back to the first stanza of the author looking back. “When I was a child, I spoke as a child…” We like the “staggered years” line, which is sad.
Is he looking back at “life’s mystery” or life’s wonder and whimsy? Probably all of those.
All... but mostly he's looking back with a sense of sadness at having irrevocably lost them.
Again, you have written a sweeping poem, with changing scenes and seasons. We found the poem to be poignant and moving.
Thanks again, NancyGene. Your insightful reviews always provide a feast for thought.
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