Fun Stuff > MAKE
Rhymey words and stuff
TinPenguin:
--- Quote from: Carl-E on 06 Jul 2011, 05:58 ---It also reminds me of what happened in the house my grandfather built. It wound up with a serious squirrel infestation in the attic space, and we all worked hard to get them out. Several years later, after my grandparents passed, while my parents were doing some simple renovations, the bedroom closet's ceiling collapsed under the weight of several thousand hoarded pinecones.
Remember to clean out those nests, folks! There can be literal regrets, too... :psyduck:
--- End quote ---
Ha, there can indeed! And in keeping with the analogy, it's when trying to renovate that everything is most likely to come crashing down...
--- Quote from: tjradcliffe on 11 Jul 2011, 11:03 ---Delightful! Always a pleasure to meet a fellow formalist!
--- End quote ---
Likewise! I usually deviate from the very fixed forms and just create my own, though my most common style is the simple but trusty quatrain. Like you, I've written free verse a few times, but I feel they never stand up next to rhyme. Longer narrative poems are the sort of stuff I really love to write; I'm quite inspired by John Masefield's ballads in that regard.
I absolutely love the concept of both links you posted. A picture and a poem can really compliment and add deeper meaning to each other, and I'm sure it is a great way to keep yourself inspired. I particularly like your seal poem. As for the Songs of Albion thing, it's a brilliant idea. The writing style is good, there is some great wit in there, and I can understand the comparison to QC. I'm interested to see where this goes. You've got a new audience member. ;) I should perhaps ask, are you aware of the Stephen Lawhead trilogy, "Song of Albion"? Very similar title there.
By the way, most of my poetry is posted here, if you're interested. Here's a longer one of mine, an example of the sort I mentioned before:
Watcher in Heaven
Behold how the seraph stands with wings outstretched on the ramparts of heaven,
As he watches the pale mortals head to prayer, their solemn faces leaden.
He hears the church bells ringing, and pities them for their tone,
Their brazen peal far weaker, far less glorious than his own.
As he stands with wings outstretched.
He stands and views his master's lesser work below, brown and green and grey,
With not half the radiance and divine splendour that he cherishes every day.
Lacking all that makes its people yearn for heavenly grace at death,
For their paltry lives, when compared to his, are but a single breath.
As he stands with wings outstretched.
See how he stands, gazing down, in a single passing glance from on high,
And over the joy and laughter he hears, rises a united, plaintive cry.
The true voice of the multitude, toiling on, throughout their bitter lives,
While the seraph stands in heaven, and in eternal bliss he thrives.
As he stands with wings outstretched.
Behold as his ears hearken the majestic voice of his master's golden call,
A beauty unknown to those below, as their chants echo upon lifeless walls.
A mystery to even those who claim they hear an answer to their prayers,
A pleasure reserved for the archways of heaven and he on the ramparts there.
As he stands with wings outstretched.
No proud sneer can there be seen to sully his face of gleaming light,
His angelic mind pure, untarnished, to please the holy master's sight.
Only pity he feels for man of dullest grey, straining to escape the dragging mire,
And something else hid deep within, as he sees wretched man's yet high desire.
As he stands with wings outstretched.
Behold his feet tremble on the gilded ramparts, as he watches a child play,
He sees men laugh as they drink in sin, and the love of couples in the hay.
He turns his head from his sentinel gaze, and casts a look around,
The white hospital walls of heaven surround him, high above the ground.
As he stands with wings outstretched.
Now see a silver tear leave his shining eye and tremble down his face,
A tear of envy for the gleaming hope of those who robed in mud still live in faith.
A spark of sin there malingering in the creator's purest work,
A wish for life not clad in white, not kept from worldly hurt.
As he folds his golden wings,
And jumps.
tjradcliffe:
Thanks for the link to your work! I'm enjoying it a lot!
New audience members make my day! Feel free to point anyone you know at Albion! We're planning to be huge!
I wasn't aware of Lawhead's books until a few weeks ago when I happened on one in weird little rural used book store. There's also a "Sword of Albion" trilogy by this Mark Chadbourn (http://www.jackofravens.com/) which looks pretty cool if you're into historical fantasy.
Fortunately, while the titles are similar, the stories are all very different!
One of the things I like to do as an exercise is take classics and re-write them--Kipling did this with his "Muse Amongst the Motors", where he wrote a poem about automobiles in the style of everyone from Homer to Robert Louis Stevenson. Here's one of those that worked out sufficiently well to stand on its own:
Then
If you can stand before the door of dreams
and watch it open, and then turn away
when they appear much smaller than they seemed,
or if there is a price too high to pay;
If you can put ambition on the shelf–
for money or for fame or worldly things–
and seek instead a different kind of wealth:
the joy of laughing children in the spring;
If you can face an offer from your God
to ease your pain, to fill your broken heart
and turn it down, declaring it a fraud,
even as the tears of mourning start;
If you can hold your mind to only reason,
If you can seek the ordinary truth,
If you refuse faith’s simple, tempting treason,
and equally the trap of lies abstruse;
If you can face a life-or-death decision
and make it in the certainty of doubt;
if you can live with anger and division
while never letting either win a rout;
If you can learn and keep an awful secret,
the death of worlds so quiet in your mind;
If you resist the rantings of the zealot;
If you create a home that’s warm and kind;
If you can seek the beauty of the evening
without denying loveliness to dawn
and feel the depth of sadness that is grieving
while joyously recalling those now gone;
If you accept that life must end in dying
yet still give all you have within to give
these fleeting years will seem no longer flying:
then you will know all that it means to live.
TinPenguin:
Nice one! Forgive my ignorance, but what was the classic being rewritten there?
--- Quote from: tjradcliffe on 12 Jul 2011, 07:16 ---Fortunately, while the titles are similar, the stories are all very different!
--- End quote ---
Indeed! As a name, Albion is pretty undefined in terms of date - I don't think it has ever been used as an official name at any time, so as a result several authors have used it in very different contexts.
If I get a chance I'll pass on the link to anyone I think might be interested.
tjradcliffe:
Ignorance is always forgivable! The classic is Kipling's "If...": http://www.blupete.com/Literature/Poetry/KiplingIf.htm
I'm a huge Kipling fan, although I'm not sympathetic to his more simplistic imperialist views. But his best poems, and especially his short stories, are amazing works of art. "Mary Postgate", "They" and "The Gardener" are all examples of his deeply humanistic impulses (I think Dover or somebody has recently come out with a little book that has just those in it... well worth the money.) He was also a pioneer of experimental fiction in "Mrs Bathurst". His most famous stories, like "The Man Who Would Be King", are in a lot of ways his weakest.
Elysiana:
Aha, I knew it sounded familiar but couldn't place it. You did an excellent job of reworking it without it sounding like a copy - it's a great sister piece. "If" and "Then" - very well done!
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