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Patagonia Lost**, About Argentine Patagonia, where I grew up. |
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Aug 4 17, 00:17
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Ornate Oracle
Group: Praetorian
Posts: 8,888
Joined: 27-August 04
From: Bariloche, Argentine Patagonia
Member No.: 78
Real Name: Sylvia Evelyn Maclagan
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:David Ting
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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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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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Replies
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Aug 4 17, 14:29
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Babylonian
Group: Gold Member
Posts: 102
Joined: 22-June 17
From: Arizona, USA
Member No.: 5,325
Real Name: Ali Zonak
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:none
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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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~~~~ It is a poem’s absolute perfection that can lead to its imperfection. ~~~~
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Aug 11 17, 00:04
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Ornate Oracle
Group: Praetorian
Posts: 8,888
Joined: 27-August 04
From: Bariloche, Argentine Patagonia
Member No.: 78
Real Name: Sylvia Evelyn Maclagan
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:David Ting
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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, Sylvia
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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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Posts in this topic
Psyche Patagonia Lost** Aug 4 17, 00:17 Larry Hi Syl,
I’ve been working on this since I saw it ... Aug 10 17, 14:27 Psyche Hi Larry,
Wow, thank you for going to such a lot o... Aug 11 17, 00:17 JustDaniel Greetings, Sylvia...
I too had been working on yo... Aug 11 17, 11:52 Psyche Hi Daniel,
Thanks so much for taking valuable ti... Aug 12 17, 01:13 JustDaniel Thank you for the explanation of "winka... Aug 12 17, 02:32
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