Vestiges (Ballade) *** (revision6) Options

[RC James]

In woods around my home in fall,
pre-dawn haze concealed dark men
behind broad trees, a blue-grey pall.
Five in faint light, to me, were ten.
They stood frozen in a wayward dream.
Spooked horses whimpered all in vain,
while ghosts of Chickamauga screamed.
Dim vestiges alone remain.

The curve of her soft back, recalled,
sustains the husband on his march,
reduced now to a staggered crawl.
At rest feels her on the larch,
then rises in a shaky reel.
November’s cold, relentless rain
restores the deadly grim ordeal.
Dim vestiges alone remain.

Stiff bodies lie from cannons’ sprawl.
Loss conquers gains in victory.
In fields of wheat, men stand in thrall
and those from both sides clearly see,
like those at home might too, bereaved,
the mute avowal of the slain.
Dead surmount dead, the country cleaved.
Dim vestiges alone remain.

Co-mingled soldiers’ blood revives
ground whose wheat will shine gold, inflamed;
plowed, no trace of so many lives,
dim vestiges alone remain.





In woods around my home in fall,
broad trees concealed among brown leaves
at pre-dawn, dark men, frozen all
like blue and grey clad shady thieves
behind the trees; a wayward dream.
Spooked horses whimper in great pain,
as ghosts of Chickamauga scream,
these vestiges alone remain.

The curve of her soft back recalled,
sustains the husband on his march,
reduced now to a staggered crawl.
At rest, he feels her on the larch,
then rises in a shaky reel;
November’s cold relentless rain
restores the bloody, grim ordeal,
These vestiges alone remain

Cold bodies lie from cannons’ sprawl,
loss overwhelms all victory.
In fields of wheat men stand in thrall
and those from both sides clearly see;
like those at home might too, bereaved,
a mute avowal of the slain.
The dead surmount dead; country cleaved
these vestiges alone remain

Co-mingled soldiers’ blood conceives
ground plowed come early spring; inflamed,
waves gold in sunlight shine, relieved,
these vestiges alone remain.








In woods around my home in fall,
broad trees concealed within brown leaves
at pre-dawn, dark men, frozen all,
like blue and grey clad dusky thieves
behind the trees; a wayward dream.
Spooked horses whimper all in vain,
as ghosts of Chickamauga scream,
dim vestiges alone remain.

The curve of her soft back recalled,
sustains the husband on his march,
reduced now to a staggered crawl.
At rest feels her on the larch,
then rises in a shaky reel;
November’s relentless rain
restores the bloody, grim ordeal,
dim vestiges alone remain

Cold bodies lie from cannons’ sprawl,
loss conquers gains in victory.
In fields of wheat men stand in thrall
and those from both sides clearly see;
like those at home might too, bereaved,
mute avowal of the slain.
The dead surmount dead; country cleaved
dim vestiges alone remain

Co-mingled soldiers’ blood conceives
ground plowed come early spring; inflamed,
waves gold in sunlight shine, relieved,
dim vestiges alone remain.






In woods around my home in fall,
gaunt trees concealed among brown leaves
at pre-dawn; dark men, frozen all
are blue and grey clad shady thieves
behind tree trunks; a wayward dream.
Spooked horses stomp in agony
as ghosts of Chicamauga scream,
all vestiges of memory.

The curve of his wife’s back recalled,
sustains the husband on his march,
reduced now to a staggered crawl.
Resting, feels her against the larch,
then rises in a shaky reel;
november’s quick-frost, shivery,
brings back to him the blood ordeal,
all vestiges of memory.

Cold bodies lie by cannon’s sprawl;
loss overwhelms what gains there be.
In fields of wheat are men in thrall
and those from both sides clearly see;
like those at home might too, bereaved,
a victory of misery.
Dead overrun dead, country cleaved,
all vestiges of memory.

Co-mingled soldiers’ blood conceives
ground to be plowed come spring; wispy,
waves gold in the calm, shine, relieved,
all vestiges of memory.





In woods around my home in fall,
through trees, concealed among brown leaves
in pre-dawn, dark men frozen all
in blue and grey like venal thieves
behind tree trunks, they vent their spleen.
Spooked horses stomp in agony
as ghosts of Chicamauga scream,
all vestiges of memory.

The curve of his wife’s back recalled,
sustains the husband on his march,
reduced now to a staggered crawl.
Resting, feels her against the larch,
then rises in a shaky reel;
november’s quick-frost, shivery,
brings back to him the blood ordeal,
all vestiges of memory.

The bodies lie by cannon’s sprawl;
loss overwhelms gain, all agree.
In wheat fields filled with men in thrall
all those from both sides clearly see,
as those at home do, full bereaved,
a victory of misery.
Dead overrun dead, country cleaved,
All vestiges of memory.

Co-mingled soldiers’ blood conceives
ground to be plowed come spring; wispy,
waves gold in the calm, shine, relieved,
all vestiges of memory.



(2)
In woods around my home in fall,
through trees, concealed among brown leaves;
in pre-dawn, dark men, frozen all
in blue and grey like shady thieves
behind tree trunks, seem like stray dreams.
Spooked horses stomp in agony
as ghosts of Chicamauga scream,
all vestiges of memory.

The curve of his wife’s back recalled,
sustains the husband on his march,
reduced now to a staggered crawl.
At rest, he feels her ‘gainst the larch,
then rises in a shaky reel;
november’s quick-frost, shivery,
brings back to the him the blood ordeal,
all vestiges of memory.

The bodies lie by cannon’s sprawl;
loss overwhelms gain, all agree.
In wheat fields filled with men in thrall
those from both sides clearly see,
as those at home do, full bereaved,
no end to mis’ry’s victory.
Dead overrun dead, country cleaved,
All vestiges of memory.

Co-mingled soldiers’ blood conceives
ground plowed come spring; now still wispy,
waves gold in the calm, shine, relieved,
all vestiges of memory.



(revision2)
In woods around my home in fall,
through trees, concealed among brown leaves
in pre-dawn, dark men, frozen all
in blue and grey like shady thieves
behind tree trunks, seem like stray dreams.
Spooked horses stomp in agony
as ghosts of Chicamauga scream,
all vestiges of memory.

His wife, her back curved like a doll’s,
sustains the husband on his march,
reduced now to a staggered crawl.
At rest, he feels her ‘gainst the larch,
then rises in a shaky reel;
november’s quick-frost, blustery,
brings back to the him the blood ordeal,
all vestiges of memory.

The bodies lie by cannons’ sprawl,
for reasons no one can conceive,
in wheat fields filled with men in thrall.
Dead overrun dead, country cleaved,
loss overwhelms gain, all agree.
no longer soldiers ask, hoarsely,
you kill a reb? The one shot me?
all vestiges of memory.

The blood fertlizes, conceives
ground plowed come spring; now still wispy,
waves gold in the calm, shine, relieved,
all vestiges of memory.



(rev.1)
In woods around my home in fall
I thought I saw, through trees, brown leaves,
in pre-dawn, dark men, frozen all
in blue and grey, like shady thieves
behind tree trunks, a wayward dream.
Spooked horses stomp in agony,
the ghosts of Chicamauga scream,
all vestiges of memory.

Wife’s back dream curves, a china doll’s,
sustained the husband on his march,
receding now to staggered crawl.
At rest felt her against the Larch,
rose up, senses in shaky reel,
November, quick frost, blustery,
brought him back to the blood ordeal,
all vestiges of memory.

The count laid out in cannon’s sprawl,
for no reason one can conceive.
In wheat fields filled with men in thrall,
dead overwhelmed dead, country cleaved,
advantage and loss unrelieved.
No longer soldiers ask, hoarsely,
you kill a reb? The one shot me?
all vestiges of memory.

The blood fertilizes, conceives
ground plowed come spring. Now still wispy,
gold waves shine in the calm, relieved,
all vestiges of memory.









Woods around my home in late fall,
brought about, through bare trees, brown leaves
in the early chill, dark men, all
in blue and grey hiding like thieves
behind tree trunks, they hardly breathed.
I heard the spooked horses whinny,
the ghosts of Chickamauga scream,
all vestiges of memory.

A wife’s back, dream curved like a doll’s,
sustained the husband on his march,
receding now to staggered crawl.
Felt her softness against the larch,
then rose back up spine full steel.
November’s early frost, windy,
snaps one straight back up toe to heel,
all vestiges of memory.

The count laid out in orchards’ sprawl,
for no reason one can conceive.
In wheat fields filled with men in thrall,
dead overwhelmed dead, country cleaved,
advantage and loss unrelieved.
Soldiers no longer ask, dizzily,
you kill a reb? The one shot me?
All vestiges of memory.

The blood fertilizes, conceives
ground plowed come spring. Now still wispy,
gold waves shine in the calm, relieved,
all vestiges of memory.

[JustDaniel]

Greetings, Richard...

I only have a moment to let you know that someone dropped in this morning. I'm off to work on my house and we plod along on it so we can move in.

Just wanted to note that you've provided us an interesting variation on the Ballade. I just checked back to that link and I noticed that BOTH of the examples that I provided there (one of them mine) were really also variations! The first one varied the usual iambic and added an eleventh beat to each line, and my own was iambic tetrameter rather than the usual iambic pentameter (= daDUM daDUM daDUM daDUM daDUM).

I note that you use the envoi very well at the end of each verse and that you curiously shorten it, which has a great effect, actually. I'm going to have to drop back to offer a real critique, but it is obvious that you've not followed the usual iambic meter expected. I guess you're creating a kind of free verse ballade here.

deLighting to visit and looking forward to returning, Daniel

[Luce]

I like the topic that you picked for the ballade. It’s very moving. Again, you picked a challenging form. I’ve never crit. a ballade but I’ll give it a go.

Vestiges

Love the title.

Woods around my home in late fall,
brought about, through bare trees, brown leaves
in the early chill, dark men, all

S1L3 -May I suggest “early dawn” instead of “early chill”. Only because in the gray light of dawn could it be possible that you can’t distinguish a uniform. Therefore, all men would be dark against the dim light.

in blue and grey hiding like thieves
behind tree trunks, they hardly breathed.

S1L5 -May I suggest “barely” instead of “hardly”.

I heard the spooked horses whinny,
the ghosts of Chickamauga scream,
all vestiges of memory.

S1L6 & L8 - I don’t know if the off rhyme of whinny/memory really does the job here. It’s just too distant in sound compare to the other near rhymes you’re using in the stanza (leaves/thieves/breathed/scream) .

A wife’s back, dream curved like a doll’s,
sustained the husband on his march,
receding now to staggered crawl.
Felt her softness against the larch,
then rose back up spine full steel.
November’s early frost, windy,
snaps one straight back up toe to heel,
all vestiges of memory.

S2L1 - I like the idea of the memory of the wife’s body (back) sustaining the husband in his brutal march.
S2L2-L3 - I like S2L2-L3 the best in the stanza.
S2L4-L7 - However, I wish the rest of the stanza was better constructed to support the opening lines of this stanza. The lines sound pretty rocky and torturous, especially from S2L4 through L7.

The count laid out in orchards’ sprawl,
for no reason one can conceive.
In wheat fields filled with men in thrall,
dead overwhelmed dead, country cleaved,
advantage and loss unrelieved.

S3L1 - May I suggest “cannon’s sprawl” instead of “orchard sprawl”.

Soldiers no longer ask, dizzily,
you kill a reb? The one shot me?
All vestiges of memory.

S3L6 – Maybe “hoarsely” instead of “dizzily”.
S3L7 – don’t like “The one shot me?” Maybe “Kill the reb! The one who shot me.”

The blood fertilizes, conceives
ground plowed come spring. Now still wispy,
gold waves shine in the calm, relieved,
all vestiges of memory.

envoi – Nice summary depicting the aftermath of a battle fought long ago.

Not sure if I can crit the meter well for you but it does sound like you’re not using iambic consistently*. I hear Da dum in some lines (S2L1/S3L4) but in other lines no. I did notice though that you were trying to keep a 4 beat line, most of the time.

*Please disregard my crit on the meter. I just don't know enough about iambic and it's acceptable substitutions to make a judgement call.

However, I'm slowly learning mainly through challenging poems like yours.

Luce

[RC James]

Luce - Thanks for your help. I tried to fix the meter, but it may still be lacking. Cheers, Richard

[Luce]

Richard,

Trying to revise a poem is difficult enough. But, when you have to account for meter and keeping your end rhymes intact...well that's enough to give anyone a migraine.

I did see your revision. I saw you made some changes. You're on your way to hopefully shaping the poem the way you want it. However, it's a long journey with no shortcuts really.

Take my advice, if you have any snow, roll around in it, make some snow angels. Enjoy the season. The poem will still be there when you come back.

Luce

[Psyche]

Been reading your Ballade, Richard, as well as Luce's comments and your revision.
Not going to crit anything now. I think this heartbreaking piece deserves special attention.
To think the dead soldiers' blood fertilizes the ground...wow...perhaps even their bodies, since they may not all be removed in the midst of the fray.

Luce is right about conserving your good end rhymes as well as correcting the meter! I know I'll get a migraine when I try to fix my sonnet, the one Larry kindly took time to crit and comment on. I feel guilty at not responding yet, but truly haven't had a moment to think clearly!

I'll be back,
Syl***

[JustDaniel]

Greetings, Richard...

I've run out of time this morning, since I have to meet my son to work on our house shortly, but I wanted you to know that I've been following your work on this piece.

After several reads I recognized that you'd been pretty consistently giving each line eight syllables, which I hadn't recognized before, since I was paying attention to meter, rather than syllable-count. Your revision is coming much closer to iambic tetrameter, that is daDUM daDUM daDUM daDUM. Keep up the good work.

I'm offering you, with some punctuation changes and several word-order changes plus only a couple of word changes, some suggestions for a continuing revision. I think that you will see this comes out a bit clearer and closer to the daDUM daDUM daDUM daDUM pattern and feeling:

In woods around my home in fall,
through trees I think I see brown leaves
in pre-dawn -- dark men, frozen all
in blue and grey like shady thieves
behind tree-trunks -- a wayward dream.
Spooked horses stomp in agony
as ghosts of Chicamauga scream,
all vestiges of memory.

His wife, her back curved like a doll’s,
sustains the husband on his march,
reduced now to a staggered crawl.
At rest, he feels her 'gainst the Larch,
then rises in a shaky reel;
November's quick-frost, blustery,
brings back to him the blood ordeal,
all vestiges of memory.

The bodies, laid by cannons, sprawl,
for reasons no one can conceive......

A few of your lines that follow are unclear to me as to meaning, particularly the line that repeats "dead"...

I'm out of time, but I'll be back.

deLighting in the journey, Daniel

P.S. I believe you'll see that I'd recommend maintaining the present tense in your narrative; I think it makes it more powerful and draws the reader into what you're saying... in my opinion.

[RC James]

Daniel - Muchas gracias - a very large kind of help. I am much relieved that I'm heading in the right direction. Huge help, Richard

[JustDaniel]

De nada, mi amigo!

in Light of friendship, Daniel

[RC James]

Daniel - If you could give me a final verdict on the meter I would really appreciate it. I'm sending this to a site where, on my last post in formal meter, they savaged it and were really aggressive in attacking it. I want to send them something that hangs together. Thanks, Richard

[RC James]

large piece of revision, RC

[Larry]

Hi Richard,

I don't want to butt in between your request to Daniel and his return from working on his home and I, too, have been following your "Vestiges" revisions. You have done a superb job so far.

I see Daniel has already given you some great suggestions and pointers and I second his praise for your tetrameter ballade. I may be reading more into this than you intend so some of my suggestions may not be appropriate or pertinent. I put all my suggestions to the side of each line and at the end of each stanza I wrote it out as if you had accepted each change. This is a cafeteria style critique. Take what you want and leave the rest.

Too many “in’s” used through the first 4 lines. See if another preposition might work.

In woods around my home in fall, (… this Fall) I’m not positive but I feel seasons should be capitalized.
through trees, concealed among brown leaves; (gaunt trees… be more descriptive)
in pre-dawn, dark men, frozen all (“at pre-dawn” – describing a certain time of day, not being “in” a part of that day)
in blue and grey like shady thieves (are blue and grey clad shady thieves)
behind tree trunks, seem like stray dreams. (semi-colon end-stop after trunks – “like errant dreams.”)
Spooked horses stomp in agony
as ghosts of Chicamauga scream,
all vestiges of memory.


In woods around my home this Fall,
gaunt trees concealed among brown leaves
at pre-dawn; dark men, frozen all
are blue and grey clad shady thieves
behind tree trunks; like errant dreams.
Spooked horses stomp in agony
as ghosts of Chicamauga scream,
all vestiges of memory.


The curve of his wife’s back recalled,
sustains the husband on his march,
reduced now to a staggered crawl.
At rest, he feels her ‘gainst the larch,
then rises in a shaky reel;
november’s quick-frost, shivery, (Again seasonal – capitalize November’s)
brings back to him the blood ordeal,
all vestiges of memory.

Great except for the non-capitalized November

The bodies lie by cannon’s sprawl; (Stiff bodies/Cold bodies – again be more descriptive)
loss overwhelms gain, all agree. (loss overwhelms what gains there be.) (…”whelms gain” is a spondee)
In wheat fields filled with men in thrall (“wheat fields filled” is a spondee” – two or more accented together)
(In fields of wheat are men in thrall)
all those from both sides clearly see, (“and” instead of “all”)
as those at home do, full bereaved, (as those at home would do. Bereaved;)
no end to mis’ry’s victory.
Dead overrun dead, country cleaved, (Death heaped on death, a country cleaved;)
All vestiges of memory. (all…)(no period end stop in prior sentence.)


Cold bodies lie by cannon’s sprawl;
loss overwhelms what gains there be.
In fields of wheat are men in thrall
and those from both sides clearly see;
like those at home might do. Bereaved,
no end to mis’ry’s victory.
Death heaped on death, a country cleaved,
all vestiges of memory.



Co-mingled soldiers’ blood conceives (blood “pervades”)(conceives has connotations of birth) Maybe that’s your intent?
ground to be plowed come spring; wispy, (period end stop after “Spring”; then end with “There’ll be”)


Not sure of what you mean by “wispy, waves gold in the calm, shine,… “ Besides, “waves gold” is a spondee and “in the calm” is anapestic. You want to keep your piece in iambic tetrameter throughout. (I think!)

waves gold in the calm, shine, relieved, (new golden waves which shine;(end stop semi-colon after shine and suggest ending with … “now fades” to rhyme with pervades)
all vestiges of memory.

This ending with the enjambment of last two lines gives one a feeling of finality.

Co-mingled soldiers’ blood pervades
ground to be plowed come Spring. There’ll be
new golden waves which shine; now fades
all vestiges of memory.

As I said before - cafeteria style - Take what you want and leave the rest.

Larry

[RC James]

Thanks Larry - just what I was looking for, just skimmed it, am tired but see great work you've done, truly do appreciate it, this is one I really want to get right. Will go to work on it tomorrow. Big thanks, RC

[JustDaniel]

So sorry I'd not been able to get back to you, Richard. As Larry mentioned, I've not been able to put in the necessary time to offer observations or critique for some time. We're hoping to be in our home early in July, and then I'll be doing a lot of settle-in work there and spending a month or so preparing our apartment in our present home for rental by adding a bedroom within the house by adding a couple of walls and replacing much of the ceiling in the bedrooms. By the fall I hope to be back sharing in this part of the board. Presently I've just been spending a short time most days in Karnak with Larry. It'd be great to have you join us there occasionally.

Larry has offered excellent help for you, adding a great deal to what I'd shared earlier... and a whole lot more! Glad you've already been helped by it.

Looking forward to sharing more in the fall, Daniel

[RC James]

I tried to straighten out the meter and rhyme on this. RC

[Larry]

Hi Richard,

Nice revision but I still have a few nits to pick as far as lines being short a beat and a couple of end-rhymes.

S2/L4 - between "rest" and "feels" insert "he" (probably just an oversight). (Short one beat)

S2/L6 - add one more modifier between "November's" and "relentless". Perhaps "cold"! (Short a beat.)

S3/L6 - "a" mute avowal... (Short one beat in this line also.)

Refrain - L1 and L3 end-rhymes. Use either present or past tense (present) "conceives" or (past) "conceived" and (past) "relieved" or (present) "relieves". Past tense would probably be best to coincide with your last line.

Other than that, your poem reiterates the horrors of war and useless death and the concomitant ghosts which follow each one. Although humans can't sense them, that doesn't mean they are not there.

Good job!

Larry

[Psyche]

Hi Richard,

You've certainly worked a lot on this one. Five revisions are unusual!

But you've received wonderful help from Daniel and Larry, so all I can do is admire!

I'm not sure how many members know it, but Richard won 1st. Prize in the IBPC monthly competition with his ballade. He sent it from another website, as Lori gave up having poems nominated and sent to IBPC several years ago.

I thought you'd sent a sonnet, Richard, forgive my mistake. "Vestiges" had dropped fairly low down in this forum, so I hadn't come back to appreciate the revisions, especially as the exchanges of crits stopped abruptly.

We now know that Richard had a serious cycling accident on July 1st., and has only just recovered enough to be able to return to his writing. Due to this awful experience, we had no idea that he'd won 1st. Prize for this poem "that reiterates the horrors of war and useless death and the concomitant ghosts which follow each one. Although humans can't sense them, that doesn't mean they are not there."

I've quoted Larry's comment on the last exchange of ideas, which came to an abrupt stop...

As I said in my PM to you, Richard, I do hope you're in good shape now, with no serious after effects. I was so shocked to read your news, but at the same time relieved that you're back on the poetry scene...

God bless you, and I'm sending good vibes and thoughts over to Colombia for your total recuperation. I hope you have family and friends to support you through this critical life experience.

Syl