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Post by Ivan Carswell on Aug 22, 2007 13:15:19 GMT -5
Bound To Narrow Themes No matter what it seems – was what she said, no matter how it hurts – there are always disappointments. The life she planned was bound to narrow themes, to rigid shapes and structures lent to old ideas; and where she went the vistas thus remained extant for years.
Disillusionment was nothing new, discontent a fever to be borne – a compliment to moments when the Heavens blessed us with a heady shower of dangled wares. Our eyes expressed our disbelief, no largesse was ever sent without a cost, and cost was evident but not relief from insincere intent.
Follow me, she said, and cited text from dry and dusty tomes bereft of magic and enchantment. We struggled to accept the books she left, we read them carefully and thought of dragons, elves and fairies under double moons in fabled skies, were demonised and living cautious in our dual lives.
Bear with me, she said, and lashed us with the cane of tortured temperament, stand up and look your master in the eye. I stood and wore her approbation, this boy will lead she surely lied, take heed and follow in his step. I cried, in anger said I wouldn’t lead, and neither would be lead. © I.D. Carswell
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Post by Shell on Aug 26, 2007 9:01:28 GMT -5
This is a tragic tale ... parents, partners, church ... blinded tyrants frightened of the next move magic might make in their lives, on their children ... there's a lot unsaid here but i felt it all .. or else i'm going out of my mind and hearing voices ... *wry grin ...
a deeply moving poem, Ivan ...
S
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Post by Bobby Slais on Aug 27, 2007 11:31:58 GMT -5
Hi Ivan
This is one that requires multiple readings, for me at least, to let it all soak in. Deeply emotional and moving indeed, enjoyed the journey and your use of the language.
I do however find many of the line breaks and the overall formatting to be a bit disruptive. I guess one area that may improve this piece is a bit of a structure overhaul, to let the reader pause in more appropriate places thus letting them feel the thought expression of each line more complete.
Something like...
No matter what it seems was what she said. No matter how it hurts, there are always disappointments. The life she planned was bound to narrow themes, to rigid shapes, structures lent to old ideas; where she went the vistas remained extant for years.
Disillusionment was nothing new, discontent a fever to be borne. A compliment to moments when the Heavens blessed us with a heady shower of dangled wares. Our eyes expressed our disbelief, no largesse was ever sent without a cost. Cost was evident but not relief from insincere intent.
etc... you get the idea. I also deleted some of the "ands" and "buts" (but didn't add anything) as they seem a bit prosey for my taste. I tweaked some punctuation also.
Well done on this piece. I can imagine that you have worked hard on it as it is very intense and well written.
SMiles! Bobby
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Post by Ivan Carswell on Aug 27, 2007 14:15:09 GMT -5
Yes, and a fair enough observation Bobby, what you suggest is pretty much the form the poem was originally in - more or less the way it was created. I can't remember exactly why I packed it, perhaps a mind's eye view to to form symmetry; certainly worth an edit. Many thanks... Ivan
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Post by Ivan Carswell on Aug 27, 2007 14:28:37 GMT -5
Bound To Narrow Themes No matter what it seems was what she said, no matter how it hurts there's always disappointment. The life she planned was bound to narrow themes, to rigid shapes - structures lent to old ideas; where she went the vistas thus remained extant for years.
Disillusionment was nothing new, discontent a fever to be borne a compliment to moments when the Heavens blessed us with a heady shower of dangled wares. Our eyes expressed our disbelief, no largesse was ever sent without a cost, and cost was evident but not relief from insincere intent.
Follow me, she said, cited text from dry and dusty tomes bereft of magic and enchantment. We struggled to accept the books she left, we read them carefully thought of dragons, elves and fairies under double moons in fabled skies, were demonised living cautious in our double lives.
Bear with me, she said, lashed us with the cane of tortured temperament, stand up and look your master in the eye. I stood to wear her fulsome praise, this boy will lead she surely lied, take heed and follow in his step. I cried, in anger said I wouldn’t lead, and neither would be lead. © I.D. Carswell
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