LOVE'S DUES, Fourth and last revision! 2 more tweaks... Options

[Psyche]

FOURTH REVISION


LOVE’S DUES

He left yesterday. Images of fallow roads
puncture solitude, then fade. The sun erodes
my thoughts like a dry sponge. They grow dim -
love’s tendrils wind their way around my heart
to build on solid ground a world apart
that may, by gentle force, go on and round him.

The sky is not my friend today; it casts a garish spell
on dales and dreams. It counterpoises Camelot.
O give my life a joyous plot!

I’m heartbroken, quite unwell,
denizen prisoner of inner space
where only elves dare tread and trim with lace
my memory of him; a rejected pawn
with bunker-shaped dome, afraid of dawn.
Weary nomad by my love accursed,
quarrying sadness and thirst
in uninhabited plateaus.
My life dissolves in threads...

Deities! Seers! Read the riddle of subterranean
fears, my eggshell life. Players in this game
deserve three lives, and I, poltroon,
dare not pursue the sentimental lane
with one puny chance of earthly gain.
To fall in line might take a thousand years
burrowing through love’s harsh confines-
Is it I who writes these lines?

Yet shining softly on my bed, mock moon,
a gray, autumnal calm spreads down my spine,
has stilled the pain, my oaths may undermine.

Aphrodite should have sung last rites
to my deadly wounds -- my heart’s plight.


© Sylvia Maclagan, Buenos Aires, Argentina, 2008.


I apologise, I revised the second revision, forgetting to copy and paste it for all to see before corrections. Thank you SuZ, Peggy, Steve, everybody!

THIRD REVISION

LOVE’S DUES

He left yesterday. Images of fallow roads
puncture solitude, and fade. The sun erodes
my thoughts like a dry sponge. They grow dim -
love’s tendrils wind their way around my heart
to build on solid ground a world apart
that may by gentle force go on, and round him.

The sky is not my friend today; it casts a garish spell
on things and dreams. It counterpoises Camelot.
O give my life a joyous plot!

I’m heartbroken, quite unwell,
denizen prisoner of inner space
where only elves dare tread and trim with lace
my memory of him; rejected pawn
with bunker-shaped dome, afraid of dawn.
Weary nomad by my love accursed,
quarrying sadness and thirst
in uninhabited plateaus.
My life dissolves in threads...

Prophets! Seers! Read the riddle of subterranean
fears, my eggshell life. Players in this game
deserve three lives; and I, poltroon,
dare not pursue the sentimental lane
with one puny chance of earthly gains.
To fall in line might take a thousand years,
burrowing through love’s harsh confines-
I do not even know ‘tis I who writes these lines.

Yet shining softly on my bed, mock moon,
a gray, autumnal calm spreads down my spine,
has stilled the pain, my oaths may undermine.

Aphrodite should have sung last rites
to my deadly wounds, to my heart’s plight.

By Psyche

© Sylvia Maclagan, Buenos Aires, Argentina, 2008.


ORIGINAL


LOVE’S DUES

He left yesterday. Images of fallow roads
puncture solitude, and fade. The sun erodes
my thoughts like a dry sponge. They grow dim -
love’s tendrils wind their way around my heart
to build on solid ground a world apart
that may by gentle force go on, and round him.
The sky is not my friend today; it casts a garish spell
on things and dreams. It counterpoises Camelot.

O give my life a sense of plot!

I’m heartbroken, quite unwell,
denizen prisoner of inner space
where only elves dare tread and trim with lace
my memory of him. Rejected pawn
with bunker-shaped dome, afraid of dawn.
Weary nomad by my love accursed,
quarrying sadness and thirst .

Prophets! Seers! Read the riddle of subterranean
fears, my eggshell life. Players in this game
deserve three lives; and I, poltroon,
dare not pursue the sentimental lane.
Yet shining softly on my bed, Mock moon,
a gray, autumnal calm has stilled the pain,
spreads down my spine, my oaths may undermine.

To fall in line might take a thousand years,
furrowing through love’s harsh confines-
I do not even know ‘tis I who writes these lines.
Uninhabited plateaus, my life dissolves in threads.
Aphrodite should have sung last rites
to the knife-wounds of my heart’s plight.

By Psyche

© Sylvia Maclagan, Buenos Aires, Argentina, 2008.

[pixordia]

Hi Syl***
I left a note here last night to say I had read but I must have hit the wrong button and lost it to cyberspace.
In it I mentioned that I thought you had achieved the tone and mood of
lost love.
I will be back later today to give more feedback after mulling on it.
Have an appointment I am off to keep now.
SuZ

[pixordia]

Here I am back with my notes Syl**:

On further reading it struck me how you have achieved the tone and mood.
The speaker in the poem is trying to bring order to chaos.
This is reflected by the use of a loose rhyming scheme throughout the poem.
It indicates a strong urge for order yet the enjambment shows the real turmoil.

In stanza one you have an ABCDDEF rhyme scheme and the rhyme spills over into the plea - F.

O give my life a sense of plot!

I wasn't sure I liked the word 'counterpoises' maybe counteracts.

In stanza two I can see the attempt to describe the memory of the magic of love with
' the elves trimming it with lace'.
In S2L4 I wonder if a semi colon might tie, "rejected Pawn' to "him," better.

my memory of him; rejected pawn

I had to look up 'poltroon' and my dictionary defines it as a mean spirited, contemptible coward.
If you are using it to force a rhyme you might consider dropping it and using, 'love-struck fool' or
somthing a little less condemmning.

In the last two stanzas there are a lot of internal as well as end rhymes and the use of assonance
with an ending couplet.
I can see you have already put a lot of time and thought into writing BUT

makes me wonder if you might make it even more successful and
be able to turn it into a Sonnet?

[Psyche]

Hi Suz!

Thank you so much for your valuable comments and crits. And yes, sometimes I also hit the wrong button and... puff!!!

Here I am back with my notes Syl**:

On further reading it struck me how you have achieved the tone and mood.
The speaker in the poem is trying to bring order to chaos.
This is reflected by the use of a loose rhyming scheme throughout the poem.
It indicates a strong urge for order yet the enjambment shows the real turmoil.

That's a highly insightful commentary, SuZ. Makes me think...wow...

In stanza one you have an ABCDDEF rhyme scheme and the rhyme spills over into the plea - F.

O give my life a sense of plot!

I wasn't sure I liked the word 'counterpoises' maybe counteracts.

OK, I'll ponder that one.

In stanza two I can see the attempt to describe the memory of the magic of love with
' the elves trimming it with lace'.

I've used that bit about the elves in another poem as well. I like it! LOL...

In S2L4 I wonder if a semi colon might tie, "rejected Pawn' to "him," better.

my memory of him; rejected pawn

Will look into that as well.

I had to look up 'poltroon' and my dictionary defines it as a mean spirited, contemptible coward.
If you are using it to force a rhyme you might consider dropping it and using, 'love-struck fool' or
somthing a little less condemmning.

HAHA!!! The word 'poltroon' was a sort of family joke, way back, we loved using it! But you're right, people shouldn't have to look up words, and perhaps it sounds forced, altho' its origins are well-founded (for me alone...LOL...)

In the last two stanzas there are a lot of internal as well as end rhymes and the use of assonance
with an ending couplet.
I can see you have already put a lot of time and thought into writing BUT

makes me wonder if you might make it even more successful and
be able to turn it into a Sonnet?

Well, the thought of turning it into a sonnet has vaguely crossed my lazy mind. Would have to eliminate lots of stuff, but it's a great idea. I'm in the habit of using 'chaotic' rhyming, internal and end-rhymes, but maybe that's not generally approved of. Yes, this poem had lots of birth-pangs...LOL....I've gone back to it many times, keep tweaking, but there it is, a chaotic 'something'!
Thanks so much. I'll certainly post a revision asap.
Syl***

[pixordia]

Nice to hear from you Syl***
I thought there might have been 'more' to poltroon than I was seeing LOL
Yes I know how these 'babies' can be.
Will watch out for further changes - be they tomorrow or next year LOL
SuZ

[Guest_ohsteve_*]

Sylvia, I thought I had stopped by here before, but I must have forgot to leave a word or two. I caught the inner rhymes and the ending ones, was amazed again at how you make the words flow. I have heard the word poltroon before, not sure where, but understood it. A very apt name for such an in depth sadness. The more I read the more I admifre your style.
Steve

[Psyche]

Steve, I'm so glad you dropped by. Thanks for the encouragement! Now I don't know whether to leave poltroon, or drop it...LOL...
My style is unusual, but I'm not sure how it can be classified. I tend to rhyme words all over the place, without any fixed pattern. My favourite prose (or narrative poets), always rhyme the last two Ls, and throw in some inner or end-rhymes in between. Or not...LOL...
Will try to revise,
thanks, Syl***

[Maggie]

Hi Psyche,

I really do like this poem, and I thought I'd replied to it, but I see I haven't!

Oh please leave "poltroon" in the poem. Its meaning fits so well and it has lovely vowel sounds as well.

I do wonder why you capitalize "Mock" in the expression "Mock moon." Is it for personification?

Enjoyed the fine read!!!

Peggy

[Psyche]

Hi Peggy!

I do believe I was making my revision when you replied! Now it's 2 to 1 for keeping 'poltroon'...and I removed it!

I'm so glad you like my poem. I appreciate your crits immensely.

Yes, perhaps I shouldn't capitalize Mock moon, or else capitalize both, i.e. Mock Moon.
It may be archaic, something which I also picked out of my rather strange English education in Patagonia. My mother had all sorts of wonderful books, which she used to teach me English until I was 9 years old. Then I was sent to a bilingual boarding school in Buenos Aires.

A Mock Moon is not a real moon, it's a phenomenon that appears in the skies, some sort of reflective process in certain atmospheric conditions. I just checked again, and a more scientific name is 'paraselene', from the Gk. selene, meaning moon. I didn't know this last bit till now, thank you for making me investigate, Peg.

My idea in the poem is that even the moon is mocking me, by not being real at all...LOL....
and giving me the false sensation that it'll ease my pain.

Now I've gone and made a different mix! If you have time, I would certainly appreciate more comments. Perhaps I've made a hash of it...

Hugs, Syl***

[Maggie]

Hi Psyche,

No, I wouldn't capitalize "mock."

I don't have many, if any, negatives to say about this fine poem!

LOVE’S DUES

He left yesterday. Images of fallow roads
puncture solitude, and fade. The sun erodes
( I love "erodes like a dry sponge! Great comparison!)
my thoughts like a dry sponge. They grow dim -
love’s tendrils wind their way around my heart
to build on solid ground a world apart
that may by gentle force go on, and round him.
(I like "gentle force.")

The sky is not my friend today; it casts a garish spell
on things and dreams. It counterpoises Camelot.
O give my life a sense of plot!
(Don't you mean "joyous plot" rather than any plot, for it does have plot?)

I’m heartbroken, quite unwell,
denizen prisoner of inner space
where only elves dare tread and trim with lace
(Great two lines above!)
my memory of him. Rejected pawn
with bunker-shaped dome, afraid of dawn.(I like the alliteration.)
Weary nomad by my love accursed,
quarrying sadness and thirst
in uninhabited plateaus.
(Maybe "desert" instead of "plateaus" as you mention "thirst")
My life dissolves in threads...

Prophets! Seers! Read the riddle of subterranean
fears, my eggshell life. Players in this game
deserve three lives; and I, love's fool,
dare not pursue the sentimental lane.
(I'd add a line here. Since you say "players. . . deserve three lives,"I'd add
"dare not pursue the sentimental lane
with only one")
To fall in line might take a thousand years,
burrowing through love’s harsh confines-
I do not even know ‘tis I who writes these lines.

Yet shining softly on my bed, Mock moon,
a gray, autumnal calm has stilled the pain,
spreads down my spine, my oaths may undermine.
(If the pain "has stilled," what "spreads down my spine"?)
(It's not clear what your oaths "may undermine.")

Aphrodite should have sung last rites
to my deadly wounds, to my heart’s plight.


On the serious side, Syl, I hope this isn't a reflection of something real and concrete in your own life!!!!

Fine poem imho!!!

Peggy

[Psyche]

Thank you so much, Peggy, for your excellent suggestions. I apologize for not replying sooner. I'll certainly use some or all of them, as soon as I have time to make another revision.

About LOVE....LOL.... can't remember, in answer to your question. Love can be like a roller-coaster, and by now it's all one big mixup!

Hugs,
Syl***

[Cleo_Serapis]

Hi Syl,

If you don't mind, I'll hold back on offering commentary until you post your next revision. Please do let us know when you do!

Hugs
~Cleo

[Psyche]

Yes, Lori, I'll get down to it! Peggy has made me think, but my thoughts are still in my head...LOL....Revisions take time, at least for me! I have 2 revs awaiting me in R&F....gotta keep calm.

Back asap, hugs, Syl***

[Psyche]

Lori, I've been a good girl because I've posted my 3rd. revision, but a bad girl because I forgot to copy & paste the second one, which I've quite forgotten....maybe some other time it will come back to me...LOL...

Thanks to everybody who helped me!
Syl***

[Guest_ohsteve_*]

Sylvia, I liked the new line divisions and that you put in some italics at the ending. It was very hard to spot the changes as again it still reads very well. Thanks for replying to my posts as they were feeling very lonely with little response...lol. will keep checking back to see if more changes are made.
Steve

[Psyche]

Oh, good, Steve! I tinkered with it a bit, following several people's suggestions. So I hope it's not too bad...LOL...

And yes, it's kinda lonely around here. I'm glad your friend BILL is dropping envelopes in your letter-b ox. A friend indeed is a friend in need. Like you, no money, no worries...LOL...

Best, Syl***
PS: I did leave the Original Version. The one that's missing is the Second. No idea how to retrieve that one! Bad girl...

[Cleo_Serapis]

Hi Syl,

I don't believe I've read this before so it was nice to see the changes being applied.

I will return this weekend but for now, I have two questions:

He left yesterday. Images of fallow roads
puncture solitude, and fade. The sun erodes (no comma necessary unless you are going for an added pause)
my thoughts like a dry sponge. They grow dim -
love’s tendrils wind their way around my heart
to build on solid ground a world apart
that may[,] by gentle force[,] go on, and round him. (alt. encircling him)

The sky is not my friend today; it casts a garish spell
on things and dreams. It counterpoises Camelot. (not sure you need to say 'things')
O give my life a joyous plot!

I’m heartbroken, quite unwell,
denizen prisoner of inner space
where only elves dare tread and trim with lace
my memory of him; rejected pawn
with bunker-shaped dome, afraid of dawn.
Weary nomad by my love accursed,
quarrying sadness and thirst
in uninhabited plateaus.
My life dissolves in threads...
Quite a lovely worded yet sad stanza above.

Prophets! Seers! Read the riddle of subterranean (Prophets ARE seers so this is redundant)
fears{,}[;] my eggshell life. Players in this game
deserve three lives{;}[,] and I, poltroon,
dare not pursue the sentimental lane
with one puny chance of earthly gain{s}.
To fall in line might take a thousand years,
burrowing through love’s harsh confines-
I do not even know ‘tis I who writes these lines.

Yet shining softly on my bed, mock moon,
a gray, autumnal calm spreads down my spine,
has stilled the pain, my oaths may undermine.

Aphrodite should have sung last rites
to my deadly wounds, to my heart’s plight.
Wonderful, sad ending - very poignant!!!

[Psyche]

Thank you, Lori! Will study your suggestions asap. It's after midnight and I'm as dumb as a doorbell, or is it a bedpost? Can't remember....LOL...

Hugs, Syl***

[Cleo_Serapis]

Hi Sylvia,

Looks like your poem was the only one nominated for November's IBPC. You still have until November 1st to make revisions. If you feel it's not ready to go yet, then let me know at that time and we'll hold it off until the following month.

HUGS
Lori

[Psyche]

Hi Lori!

I've just posted my fourth and, hopefully, last revision! I'd be delighted if you agree to send it this month. May as well gamble on a bit of love instead of money...LOL...

Thanks for your great help. You'll see that I've changed several bits after your suggestions. Anybody can still crit, I have a few days left for tweaking!

Hugs, Syl***