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PashernatePoet
EDIT 1 26/9/05

Annual

When roads are worked to a stage
Where they lose the point of taking me
Between where I haven't reached
And where I am tired of seeing,
I write a poem.

Or rather, a stanza worms its way
Up to me, yearly, without teeth
But toying with speech and the idea
Of grammar, sometimes metre and rhyme,
To charm your smiles.

And just as quickly, once its written,
The muse goes to sleep for another
365 days, give or take, until it seems
She was beheaded one week behind
The stacks of papers.

So it goes, I have exactly nineteen
Steps through verse set down by hand,
With each containing the words;
'If this happens to be the last, know that
I wrote, as well'.

---------------------------------------

Annual

When roads are worked to a stage
Where they lose the point of taking me
Between where I haven't reached
And where I am tired of seeing,
I write a poem.

Or rather, a stanza worms its way
Up to me, yearly, without teeth
But toying with speech and the idea
Of grammar, even metre and rhyme,
Though rarely so much.

And just as quickly, once its written,
The muse is gone to sleep for another
365 days, give or take, until it seems
She was beheaded one week behind
The stacks of papers.

So it goes, I have exactly nineteen
Steps through verse set down by hand,
And each one contains the words;
'If this happens to be the last, know that
I wrote, as well'.

----------------------------------------------------

Notes: The tone here is similar to other poems I've put on this forum, so I am concerned the voice is wearing thin. Let me know if there's anything to be gained from altering the energy behind the poem, or anything else really.




Nina
Hi Liam

I don't think your "voice" is wearing thin at all. This poem is different from the other two you have posed in Seren's and I find the tone different to the others.  

I'm not sure I really understand its meaning but what I get is that you come to a point, every year where you feel lost, getting nowhere or can't reach where you want to go and have had enough. Your muse appears and you write a poem. At nineteen years of age you have nineteen poems written all with the same line (trying to imagine you as a one year old with pen in hand writing the words 'If this happens to be the last, know that I wrote, as well').  A sad line that implies death or suicide being considered.

Some thoughts and suggestions for you to use or not as you wish
[add] {delete} (comment)

When roads are worked to a stage
Where they lose the point of taking me
Between where I haven't reached  
And where I am tired of seeing,
I write a poem.

Or rather, a stanza worms its way
Up to me, yearly, without teeth  ...(without teeth implies that the stanza is not powerful)
{But} toying with speech and the idea
Of grammar, even metre and rhyme,
Though rarely so much.  (I'm not sure this line adds value to the poem)

{And} just as quickly, once its written,
The muse {is gone}[goes] to sleep for [approximately] another
365 days, {give or take,} until it seems
She was beheaded one week behind
The stacks of papers....(you give quite a gruesome image here)

{So it goes,} I have exactly nineteen
Steps through verse set down by hand,
{And} each one contains the words;
'If this happens to be the last, know that
I wrote, as well'.

Nina
Cathy
Hi Liam,

Great poem!  I'm not sure I get the full meaning but I'm working
on it!

Suggestions that you may use or lose: {omit}[add]

When roads are worked to a stage
Where they lose the point of taking me
Between where I haven't reached
And where I am tired of seeing,
I write a poem.  I like this!  Fed up and don't know where to turn ...
I love the phrasing.


Or rather, a stanza worms its way
Up to me, yearly, without teeth
But toying with speech and the idea
Of grammar, {even}[sometimes] metre and rhyme,
[I add the bite.]{Though rarely so much.}

{And} [J]ust as quickly, once its written,
The muse {is gone}[goes] to sleep for another
365 days, [approximately]{give or take,} until it seems
She was beheaded one week behind
The stacks of papers. Oooh gory!

So it goes, I have exactly nineteen
Steps through verse set down by hand,
{And} each one contains the words;
'If this happens to be the last, know that
I wrote, as well'.

When roads are worked to a stage
Where they lose the point of taking me
Between where I haven't reached
And where I am tired of seeing,
I write a poem.

Or rather, a stanza worms its way
Up to me, yearly, without teeth
But toying with speech and the idea
Of grammar, sometimes metre and rhyme,
I add the bite.

Just as quickly, once its written,
The muse goes to sleep for another
365 days, approximately, until it seems
She was beheaded one week behind
The stacks of papers.

So it goes, I have exactly nineteen
Steps through verse set down by hand,
each one contains the words;
'If this happens to be the last, know that
I wrote, as well'.
PashernatePoet
Sorry for the late reply. I haven't had much time to work on this recently.

Thanks for the comments Nina and Cathy. They helped me tie up the lose ends.

As to the meaning. I'd be lying if I said there's a vast tapestry to uncover beneath the surface. The narrator isn't me per se. It's rather the notion I have that poetry is essentially a hobby, which comes and goes, seems dead and then revives itself. I do in essence feel like I'm one of the multitude of people who picks up poetry every now and again, muses over a thought and then lets it lie. The last two lines (my last lines always seem the most ambigous) is just an expression of my sorrow that poetry is going to be such a small part of my life. I suppose it's because I express such sentiments that I'm regarding the type of themes my recent poems revolve around as tired. I don't want to be a writer who simply relates the mild traumas of their life in their work (hence the 'without teeth line' - it's a self-aware poem :) - I'm sure there's a word for that) - it's not brave enough.

Anyway, thanks for the comments.
Psyche
Hi Liam !  :sun:

I was browsing around and came up with this highly interesting poem of yours.
Did it get lost in the stack of papers?!  :oops:

Anyway, I've visited your website to get a wider view of your writings, and I'll tell you right away that I was pleasantly surprised by your style of poetry. I like it coz it's modern but not too minimal -I don't mind minimal stuff, either- so that the poems ring like a conversation with oneself, as if the author were making passing reflections on this or that, but not necessarily anything absolute or of transcendental importance.... in his opinion...  :cool:

There is an Eliot air about some of the poems on your website. I'll get back to them with more time because I admire Eliot and anything that sends out some of his sparks.

Oh, dear, the bell is ringing and I haven't even remarked on Annual, but I'll be back because I like it very much indeed.

Best,
Sylvia  :snail:
Don
Hi Liam,

I liked Annual describing where the muse comes from and how laid back it can be.  This is not a rousing tone, but much effort is too often expended on "grabbers" rather than the peaceful aspects like a garden walk.

I visited your website and really like Red.  Has this been posted at MM yet?

Happy Halloween    ghostface.gif

Don   pumpkin.gif
Psyche
Hi Liam !

I've just been reading several of your website poems, and was struck by Plum, Beds (fantastic!!), Broken Toes, The Evangelist's Widow. I recognised More is Less from a previous posting of yours at MM.

I'm so pleased to find a poet who doesn't mind "rambling on", including conversations and all sorts of idiomatic expressions or whatever. Makes full use of the English language !

As for Annual, I think it's super original and profound, in an off-hand sort of way which adds to it's attraction.

Or rather, a stanza worms its way
Up to me, yearly, without teeth
But toying with speech and the idea
Of grammar, even metre and rhyme,
Though rarely so much.


This stanza is especially good. I like the way you view the stanza worming its way up to you, sort of timidly, undecidedly, offering up a dicey amount of poetic recourses for you to put on paper. "Though rarely so much" is a spectacular reflection on this "being's" rather unreliable appearance in your life, which you put at "365 days, give or take" !!!! Impressive. I hardly dare call it your Muse !!

The separation of the poem or stanza from yourself, as another entity, is great. And the 365 days interval, which I take as metaphorical or just plain whimsy on your part, is really cool.

I do hope you'll post more, I shall be looking forward to your musings very much indeed.

Cheers,
Sylvia  :turtle:
PashernatePoet
Hi, thank you both for your comments (and thanks for PMing me into action Psyche). I've been 'away' for a while, in the sense that I started university two weeks ago and I've been unable to get enough distance from the situation to write anything. It's ironic really, the muse does seem unavailable at the moment.

I haven't left the forum though and I haven't gone to another one. I think I'll take some time to critique other people's poetry.

Don - if by 'red' you mean the short collection I've been working on recently, you've seen annual but 'An American Dream' was posted on another site. I'm still unsure about that one, it doesn't seem to strike the right tone in terms of what I was getting at.

Psyche - thanks for your comments. I'll be back very soon to look at some of your work (and post some of my own:))
Don
My error.  The verse I liked at your site was titled An American Dream.

Don
Peterpan
Hello Liam~

Interesting poem, which I would like to think about before I comment.

I have always enjoyed your unique thoughts and words.

PP

:)
Psyche
Hi Liam !  :sun:

Just dropping in to say that I'm very glad you've started univerisity, but at the same time I sincerely hope you'll allow your Muse to invade your thoughts as often as possible.

If you can write like this at 21, there's no knowing what heights you can reach if you open your heart to poetry !

The French poet Rimbaud used to lie about his age when he wrote poetry at 18, because he was afraid people wouldn't believe he was the authentic author.

Anyway, congrats on university, all the same !!

Hope to see you back at MM soon,
cheers,
Sylvia-Psyche  :snail:
PashernatePoet
Thanks for the comments, made my lunch break. I sincerely hope as well that I manage to find an idea that I'm really excited about.

At the moment I'm interested in something big, perhaps a 'concept anthology' of poems, but exactly what I want to write about is a bit ambiguous right now.

I think what's stopping the process is the fact that so much is happening at the moment. I usually write poetry when I can become less emotionally involved with what I'm talking about. Someone once said that the best time to write love songs is when you're not in love, when the ideas and possibilities are all there in front of you but you don't let them overwhelm you.

I'll work something out though, and I will be back, poetry is terribly addictive.

(By the way, I'm only 19)
Peterpan
Hello Liam~

I love the poem, your choice of words - exceptional.

My only comment is, what I have learnt from James/Jox: Try not starting every line with a capital not after a previous full stop? The capitals seem to interrupt the flow of the reader. Worth a try? I have converted.

Peterpan

:)




PashernatePoet
I think you may be right PP, the capitals do make the reading a bit laborious.
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