I wipe the sour sweat away
from my weary wrinkled brow
while approaching end of day
which will come not long from now.
My gaze which has been looking down
now is blinded by the sun.
The final act of this old clown
is growing near to being done.
Tired legs lead me to a stump
where I rest every aching bone
while sitting in an old man's slump
in these winter woods alone.
Because how else can I be
after all the things I've done;
How could anyone love me ?
I suspect that there are none.
The duff that lies beneath my feet,
like the layers of the years
becomes food for worms to eat
along with an old man's fears.
So many who have trusted me
suffer my mistakes even now
and as far as I can see
should be paid back somehow.
Eventually I slowly stand,
sigh, then continue on my path
with crooked staff in twisted hand.
I'll do my best on this late day
to harm no others in the aftermath
Comments
Regret
I think there's a few minor problems with the rhythm which I'll try to point out below
I wipe the sour sweat away
from my weary wrinkled brow
while approaching end of day - you might insert "my end of say"
which will come not long from now.
My gaze which has been looking down
now is blinded by the sun.
The last act of this old clown - rhythmically, final is better than last
is growing near to being done.
Tired legs lead me to a stump
where I rest every aching bone
while sitting in an old man's slump
in these winter woods alone.
For how else can I be - I'd suggest "How otherwise can I be", the line seems short as it is
after all the things I've done;
How could anyone love me ?
I suspect that there are none.
The duff that lies beneath my feet, - what is duff, by the way?
like the layers of the years
becomes food for worms to eat - "becoming" maybe
along with an old man's fears.
So many who have trusted me
suffer my mistakes even now - errors is better
and as far as I can see
should be paid back somehow.
Eventually I slowly stand
sigh, then continue on my way
with crooked staff in twisted hand.
I'll do my best on this late day
to leave no more wreckage, I pray.
Hi Ray
I will be editing soon and will keep your ideas in mind when I do. BTW duff is the decayed leaves found in any forest.
The only...
thing that I see, that seems out of rhythm, is the last stanza. I know the idea is to convince the reader of your intent to leave no more wreckage, but I would try to adjust the last lines somehow. Maybe like this:
Eventually I sigh and stand
then continue on my way
with crooked staff in twisted hand
to leave no more wreckage now, I pray
All in all, I felt this one very strongly. Not a good feeling to know that one has caused pain to another,
~ Geez.
.
Hi Geez
I wasn't happy with last stanza when I wrote it. But that's what edits are for lol. Thanks for dropping by
Blue...
a tuff to write piece, I'm thinking...
I agree with Geezer on the last stanza
I would work the color blue into this piece somewhere.
Blue?
Well, we'll see if that can be done
OK
I've done first edit. Still not happy with last stanza but I'll come back to it later. Ray, I didn't see where blue could be worked in. Perhaps the final stanza will be expanded to two and there will be a place for it then. Thank you all for your thought and input
Perhaps blue was not the best color here…
You could make the fifth line of the last stanza as a stand alone line. I like your revisions .
Hmmm..
Your poem is as usual, full of imagery and metaphors, mostly effective because of the simple terminology and word choice.(true poetry!)...not really liking that last line with the word fray. If it is technically correct, it doesn't feel natural. The word pray makes more sense.
Thomas
Hi Thomas
Yeah that last stanza needs and will get more work before I'm satisfied with it
A suggestion
I really don't like doing this, but
Eventually, I slowly stand
sigh, then >carry< on my way
with crooked staff in twisted hand.-nice line!
I'll do my best this >passing< day
to leave no lasting wrongs, I pray
Just examples to improve the meter, of course
Thomas
Hey
no problem. I always welcome input so fire away
Stan don't ever change this....
The ......duff .......that lies beneath my feet,
like the layers of the years
How well you remember ed me
when you called it duff ...
thanks scribbler you didn't cast me as
DAFT
as most do
I BOW to you