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> Patagonia Lost**, About Argentine Patagonia, where I grew up.
Psyche
post Aug 4 17, 00:17
Post #1


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Group: Praetorian
Posts: 8,770
Joined: 27-August 04
From: Bariloche, Argentine Patagonia
Member No.: 78
Real Name: Sylvia Evelyn Maclagan
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:David Ting



I've posted this poem here because it has end rhymes. Not all perfect ones.
I'm mostly interested in a few suggestions to give the lines some sort of fixed form, perhaps changing some words to achieve that. I don't want a complete re-write of my poem, so if it's too complicated don't take the trouble!
Thanks a lot!

PATAGONIA LOST

In many ways I’ve left behind the dreams and loves
I cherished most, and yet as years go by the word
adios still binds me to the coos of turtledoves;
the glare of Austral skies, where a circling bird

swoops to snatch a creature fleeing in the brush.
Of trails Tehuelche braves stalked in bygone days,
or nomad’s camps safe from the Holy Grail rush;
before winka sliced the steppes with railways

forged by slaves to traffic Remingtons, or purged
the patterned prairies of jaguars and ñandues.
Concrete dams and buzzing pylons emerged
on cactus lands, carcasses shed lucent hues

on llanos swept anhydrous by the wailing winds.
Thus memory is laced with fuzzy images
of childhood pastures… heartstrings
my thoughts will not let go despite the ravages

of time and loss. So to the present day I smile
at all my lost or wayward worlds -red horizons
receding in a cone of plangent light- meanwhile
spirits summon me from crowded pantheons

of Patagonian lore. Captive of the fading
tones that grip my heart or force an odd grimace
cling to phantom walls, I cannot rouse the swaying
poplar trees, nor speak to you, caress your face.

by Psyche.





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The Lord replied, my precious, precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.


"There is no life higher than the grasstops
Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind
Pours by like destiny, bending
Everything in one direction."

Sylvia Plath, Crossing the Water, Wuthering Heights.



Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here!

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Ali zonak
post Aug 4 17, 14:29
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Real Name: Ali Zonak
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QUOTE (Psyche @ Aug 4 17, 01:17 ) *
I've posted this poem here because it has end rhymes. Not all perfect ones.
I'm mostly interested in a few suggestions to give the lines some sort of fixed form, perhaps changing some words to achieve that. I don't want a complete re-write of my poem, so if it's too complicated don't take the trouble!
Thanks a lot!

PATAGONIA LOST

In many ways I’ve left behind the dreams and loves
I cherished most, and yet as years go by the word
adios still binds me to the coos of turtledoves;
the glare of Austral skies, where a circling bird

swoops to snatch a creature fleeing in the brush.
Of trails Tehuelche braves stalked in bygone days,
or nomad’s camps safe from the Holy Grail rush;
before winka sliced the steppes with railways

forged by slaves to traffic Remingtons, or purged
the patterned prairies of jaguars and ñandues.
Concrete dams and buzzing pylons emerged
on cactus lands, carcasses shed lucent hues

on llanos swept anhydrous by the wailing winds.
Thus memory is laced with fuzzy images
of childhood pastures… heartstrings
my thoughts will not let go despite the ravages

of time and loss. So to the present day I smile
at all my lost or wayward worlds -red horizons
receding in a cone of plangent light- meanwhile
spirits summon me from crowded pantheons

of Patagonian lore. Captive of the fading
tones that grip my heart or force an odd grimace
cling to phantom walls, I cannot rouse the swaying
poplar trees, nor speak to you, caress your face.

by Psyche.






Hello Psyche,
you are right, there are a few near-rhymes (such as grimace/face) contained in your poem, but I have a tendency to ignore those, especially if a story line is as good as yours. I would suggest that you set your poem in iambic pentameter, meaning five metric feet, ta TUM / ta TUM / ta TUM / ta TUM / ta TUM. The reason being that your lines are already long--for the most part, and the Iambic foot is the most common in the English language (see Shakespeare's Sonnets). For proper hyphenation, for the sake of syllable count and accentuation, I would consult Merian Webster's dictionary.
Sorry, I'm not the greatest critic, especially since I just had fatty tissue removed; the anesthesia's after-effects--well, that's something else to write about, lol. It's great to see you write again, Psyche. Ali


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Larry
post Aug 10 17, 14:27
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From: Springfield, Louisiana
Member No.: 446
Real Name: Larry D. Jennings
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:Just wondered in.



Hi Syl,

I’ve been working on this since I saw it posted Saturday morning. This is a good bit different from the same poem in Book I of “Patagonia Lost” so I’m not real sure how to approach the goals you wish to attain. My rendition is to try and equalize the metrics into a hexameter ballad but I face the difficulty of iambic and anapestic line starts and a minor lack of enjambment mixed in for good measure. You stated you didn’t want a complete rewrite of your poem so, for the most part, I just added/changed a few words and suggested a few punctuation changes to try and maintain some metric regularity. I saw Ali’s comments about IP but I wouldn’t want to try squeezing all you had to say into that form. You may, as with all my suggestions, take or toss the whole lot.

Larry




PATAGONIA LOST

In many ways I’ve left behind the dreams and loves
I cherished most, and yet as years go by the word
adios (farewell) still binds me to the coos of turtledoves;…(adios has 3 syllables-1 too many)
the glare of Austral skies, where (there’s) a circling bird…(short 1 syllable)

(who) swoops to snatch a creature fleeing in the brush….(short 1 syllable – anapestic start)
Of trails Tehuelche braves (had) stalked in bygone days,… (short 1 syllable)
or nomad’s camps safe from the Holy Grail(‘s foul) rush;… (short 1 syllable)
before (the) winka sliced the steppes with (steel) railways… (short 1 foot)

forged by (poor) slaves to traffic Remingtons, or purged… (short 1 syllable)
the patterned prairies of (sleek) jaguars and ñandues…. (short 1 syllable)
(Their) concrete dams and buzzing pylons (had) emerged… (short 1 foot and anapestic start)
(in) on cactus lands, (rank) carcasses shed lucent hues… (short 1 syllable – sub (in) for (on) with which you started the next line)

on llanos swept anhydrous by the wailing winds.
Thus memory is laced with fuzzy images
of childhood pastures… heartstrings (plucked to break and bend)… (short 2 ½ syllables)
my thoughts(semi-colon) (I’ll) will not let go despite the ravages… (semi-colon break, sub (I’ll) for (will))

of time and loss. So to the present day I smile
at all my lost or wayward worlds(semi-colon) -red horizons’ (blush,)… (semi-colon break, rhyme substitute)
receding in a cone of plangent light(.) (M)eanwhile… (end-stop after light, Capitalize meanwhile)
(pale) spirits summon me from crowded pantheons (lost crush)… (anapestic start, delete “crowded”, rhyme substitute and enjambment into the last stanza. )



I had the most trouble with your last stanza which I feel is the most important part of a ballad in that it is a summation of all that has gone before. Most of this had to do with the end-rhymes (grimace/face) and your two gerunds (fading/swaying). I don’t understand the phrase “Captive of the fading tones that grip my heart” so I’m finding it hard to suggest a fix. Below is the best I could come up with for the metrics, including trochees, spondees and the rhyme scheme. Hope some of it helps.

of Patagonian lore. (Held) Captive (by)of the fading (lost love)
(though) tones(, which) that grip my heart (seem forced and out of place;) or force an odd grimace,
(they) cling to phantom walls(.), (I’ll not) cannot rouse the sway (of) ing
poplar trees, nor speak to you, caress your face.


·······IPB·······

When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the areas of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of his existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.
John Fitzgerald Kennedy



Kindness is a seed sown by the gentlest hand, growing care's flowers.
Larry D. Jennings

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Psyche
post Aug 11 17, 00:04
Post #4


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Group: Praetorian
Posts: 8,770
Joined: 27-August 04
From: Bariloche, Argentine Patagonia
Member No.: 78
Real Name: Sylvia Evelyn Maclagan
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:David Ting



QUOTE (Ali zonak @ Aug 4 17, 16:29 ) *
QUOTE (Psyche @ Aug 4 17, 01:17 ) *
I've posted this poem here because it has end rhymes. Not all perfect ones.
I'm mostly interested in a few suggestions to give the lines some sort of fixed form, perhaps changing some words to achieve that. I don't want a complete re-write of my poem, so if it's too complicated don't take the trouble!
Thanks a lot!

PATAGONIA LOST

In many ways I’ve left behind the dreams and loves
I cherished most, and yet as years go by the word
adios still binds me to the coos of turtledoves;
the glare of Austral skies, where a circling bird

swoops to snatch a creature fleeing in the brush.
Of trails Tehuelche braves stalked in bygone days,
or nomad’s camps safe from the Holy Grail rush;
before winka sliced the steppes with railways

forged by slaves to traffic Remingtons, or purged
the patterned prairies of jaguars and ñandues.
Concrete dams and buzzing pylons emerged
on cactus lands, carcasses shed lucent hues

on llanos swept anhydrous by the wailing winds.
Thus memory is laced with fuzzy images
of childhood pastures… heartstrings
my thoughts will not let go despite the ravages

of time and loss. So to the present day I smile
at all my lost or wayward worlds -red horizons
receding in a cone of plangent light- meanwhile
spirits summon me from crowded pantheons

of Patagonian lore. Captive of the fading
tones that grip my heart or force an odd grimace
cling to phantom walls, I cannot rouse the swaying
poplar trees, nor speak to you, caress your face.

by Psyche.






Hello Psyche,
you are right, there are a few near-rhymes (such as grimace/face) contained in your poem, but I have a tendency to ignore those, especially if a story line is as good as yours. I would suggest that you set your poem in iambic pentameter, meaning five metric feet, ta TUM / ta TUM / ta TUM / ta TUM / ta TUM. The reason being that your lines are already long--for the most part, and the Iambic foot is the most common in the English language (see Shakespeare's Sonnets). For proper hyphenation, for the sake of syllable count and accentuation, I would consult Merian Webster's dictionary.
Sorry, I'm not the greatest critic, especially since I just had fatty tissue removed; the anesthesia's after-effects--well, that's something else to write about, lol. It's great to see you write again, Psyche. Ali


Hi Ali,
I always write several near rhymes in my ballad type poems. I find it far too restrictive to use only perfect rhymes.
Thanks so much for reading and suggesting. I'll think about the iambic pentameter.
And I do hope you're feeling better after your surgery. As I know you use humor a lot in your ballads, perhaps you'll be well enough to joke about that! Hope so, anyway.
Best, butterfly.gif Sylvia



·······IPB·······

Mis temas favoritos



The Lord replied, my precious, precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.


"There is no life higher than the grasstops
Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind
Pours by like destiny, bending
Everything in one direction."

Sylvia Plath, Crossing the Water, Wuthering Heights.



Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here!

MM Award Winner
 
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Psyche
post Aug 11 17, 00:17
Post #5


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Group: Praetorian
Posts: 8,770
Joined: 27-August 04
From: Bariloche, Argentine Patagonia
Member No.: 78
Real Name: Sylvia Evelyn Maclagan
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:David Ting



Hi Larry,
Wow, thank you for going to such a lot of trouble trying to get proper metrics into my ballad.
I've been reading all your suggestions twice over. So now I'm too tired to do any editing! I have to absorb everything and make sure I've understood the word changes. A lot seem wonderful to me, whereas others confuse me. But I'm tired now, as I said.
I didn't know that you had my book Patagonia Lost!
I have this habit of changing my poems each time I read them. Then I keep several versions in my files. I'm posting in some other forums, so that's when the changes happen.
I'll try to get back asap.
Thank you again, best,
Sylvia butterfly.gif


·······IPB·······

Mis temas favoritos



The Lord replied, my precious, precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.


"There is no life higher than the grasstops
Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind
Pours by like destiny, bending
Everything in one direction."

Sylvia Plath, Crossing the Water, Wuthering Heights.



Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here!

MM Award Winner
 
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JustDaniel
post Aug 11 17, 11:52
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Real Name: Daniel J Ricketts, Sr.
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori



Greetings, Sylvia...

I too had been working on your piece for some time, but unfortunately there must have been some computer update the other day, and it erased all my work on the program that I was using! Frustrated, I gave up... but I'm back to try to recoup some of what I'd observed.

You have here a very nice ballad which is for the most part in iambic hexameter. With a little work, the significant variations can be shifted with the suggestions that I offer... which of course you may take or toss:

PATAGONIA LOST

In many ways I’ve left behind the dreams and loves
I cherished most, and yet as years go by the word
adiós still binds me to the coos of turtledoves;
[italicizing and accenting "adios" suggest the Spanish rather than English pronunciation, which is close to iambic]
the glare of Austral skies, where in which a circling bird

swoops down to snatch a creature fleeing in the brush.
Of trails Tehuelche braves had stalked in bygone days,
or nomads' camps safe from the Holy Grail's dark rush;
before the winka sliced the steppes with to forge railways
[I could find no information about the "winka" !! What were they?]

forged by with peasant slaves to traffic Remingtons, or purged
the patterned prairies of swift jaguars and ñandus. [no e in plural]
Great concrete dams and buzzing pylons then emerged
on cactus lands, and carcasses shed lucent hues

on llanos swept anhydrous by the wailing winds.
Thus memory is laced with fuzzy images
of childhood pastures 'til my heartstrings pluck, chagrined;
my thoughts will not let go despite the ravages

of time and loss. So to the present day I smile
at all my lost or wayward worlds -red horizons
at lost or wayward worlds, horizon's deep maroon
receding in a cone of plangent light- meanwhile
some spirit(s) summons (me) from a crowded pantheon(s)

of Patagonian lore. Held captive of the fading greying
tones that grip my heart or force an odd grimace embrace
that clings to phantom walls, I cannot rouse the swaying
poplar trees, nor speak to you, caress your face.

Well, there it is, Sylvia... as close to Iambic Hexameter as I could shift it. By the way, if you read the last verse as I hear it, the extra syllable of the 1st and 3rd lines bleeds into the "missing" syllable of lines 2 and 4.

deLighting always in your sharing, Daniel sun.gif


·······IPB·······

Slow down; things will go faster!

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Psyche
post Aug 12 17, 01:13
Post #7


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Group: Praetorian
Posts: 8,770
Joined: 27-August 04
From: Bariloche, Argentine Patagonia
Member No.: 78
Real Name: Sylvia Evelyn Maclagan
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:David Ting



Hi Daniel, sun.gif
Thanks so much for taking valuable time off to scan my ballad. And I'm especially sorry that you lost the first draft due to computer troubles. That's so terribly discouraging, so I'm all the more grateful for your assistance.

Now I have to study both your's and Larry's suggestions, so it will take me a while to get my act together... LOL.

I've put "adiós" with its correct pronunciation, that's why it's in italics.

As for "winka", it's the indigenous term for "white man", "stranger" and finally "liar". It can be spelt in various ways, such as "wingka" or "huinca" (the 'h' is soundless). As mapuzungun was an oral language, same as most very ancient idioms, there are now about three dictionaries by different authors. The most accepted is the one that uses the European 'w' and 'k', and others. The usage of 'h' is of Spanish origin. It has no sound, no 'g' or 'j' pronunciation, so it's really 'ui' that sounds like 'w'. Do I make it clear? Can't go over this again coz my Fibromyalgia is killing me.

I'll work on this and try to better the meter.
Many thanks once again,
best, Sylvia butterfly.gif






QUOTE (JustDaniel @ Aug 11 17, 13:52 ) *
Greetings, Sylvia...

I too had been working on your piece for some time, but unfortunately there must have been some computer update the other day, and it erased all my work on the program that I was using! Frustrated, I gave up... but I'm back to try to recoup some of what I'd observed.

You have here a very nice ballad which is for the most part in iambic hexameter. With a little work, the significant variations can be shifted with the suggestions that I offer... which of course you may take or toss:

PATAGONIA LOST

In many ways I’ve left behind the dreams and loves
I cherished most, and yet as years go by the word
adiós still binds me to the coos of turtledoves;
[italicizing and accenting "adios" suggest the Spanish rather than English pronunciation, which is close to iambic]
the glare of Austral skies, where in which a circling bird

swoops down to snatch a creature fleeing in the brush.
Of trails Tehuelche braves had stalked in bygone days,
or nomads' camps safe from the Holy Grail's dark rush;
before the winka sliced the steppes with to forge railways
[I could find no information about the "winka" !! What were they?]

forged by with peasant slaves to traffic Remingtons, or purged
the patterned prairies of swift jaguars and ñandus. [no e in plural]
Great concrete dams and buzzing pylons then emerged
on cactus lands, and carcasses shed lucent hues

on llanos swept anhydrous by the wailing winds.
Thus memory is laced with fuzzy images
of childhood pastures 'till my heartstrings pluck, chagrined;
my thoughts will not let go despite the ravages

of time and loss. So to the present day I smile
at all my lost or wayward worlds -red horizons
at lost or wayward worlds, horizon's deep maroon
receding in a cone of plangent light- meanwhile
some spirit(s) summons (me) from a crowded pantheon(s)

of Patagonian lore. Held captive of the fading greying
tones that grip my heart or force an odd grimace embrace
that clings to phantom walls, I cannot rouse the swaying
poplar trees, nor speak to you, caress your face.

Well, there it is, Sylvia... as close to Iambic Hexameter as I could shift it. By the way, if you read the last verse as I hear it, the extra syllable of the 1st and 3rd lines bleeds into the "missing" syllable of lines 2 and 4.

deLighting always in your sharing, Daniel sun.gif


·······IPB·······

Mis temas favoritos



The Lord replied, my precious, precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.


"There is no life higher than the grasstops
Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind
Pours by like destiny, bending
Everything in one direction."

Sylvia Plath, Crossing the Water, Wuthering Heights.



Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here!

MM Award Winner
 
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JustDaniel
post Aug 12 17, 02:32
Post #8


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Posts: 18,451
Joined: 2-August 03
From: Southwest New Jersey, USA
Member No.: 6
Real Name: Daniel J Ricketts, Sr.
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori



Thank you for the explanation of "winka", Sylvia. I was really frustrated by the total lack of explanation of the word anywhere I could find in the various search engines!

I forgot to ask you about the "Remingtons". Exactly what is going on there? Gun smuggling?

I hope you note that I tried as much as possible to keep YOUR wording with my suggestions, simply rearranging in a couple of places and adding words in others, plus making suggestion of closer rhymes in the final two verses... oh, and kind of taking a guess how to fill in the one verse that was two-and-a-half feet short. I think you meant a pause there, but it seemed too abrupt to not make some suggestion.

deLighting in your educating us to your culture, Daniel sun.gif


·······IPB·······

Slow down; things will go faster!

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