Where untold stories breathe within
the fractured faults of rumbling walls;
where muted spirits mime
an Opera of yore;
sculpted along the rocky terrain
of the venerated edifice
crumbling in sunshine, rain and hail
more alive than dead.
Where convolution of their shadows,
draw me to an enthralling opus,
played to echoes of a whispered song
of unsung heroes,
accompanied by foot taps of rain drops;
before the curtain falls
over the heart throbbing spectacle,
with a clap of thunder,
ruining my conscious.
Comments
Hi gemma
Thanks for your comment. I am not offended by it because positive criticism is most welcome and appreciated by an amateur like me. So too are the suggestions. I have tweaked up the poem and will look forward to your further comments.
Regards,
Take your time g. I'm patient
Take your time g. I'm patient.
Regards,
Appreciate your comment Gemma
Many thanks for revisiting and pin pointing the word "perform" which is affecting the cadence. I will definitely play with other alternatives for "perform" and seek your feed back if it works. Other than that good to know that you found the tweaked up version to be a positive improvement.
Regards,
I've further tweaked this up Gemma
Please review and revert with your comment on the revised version.
Regards,
I'm going to agree with the grinning frog.
There is a an abundance of excellent imagery here, but we lose much in a prose like rhythm. Words on a page, no matter how evocative, does not poetry make. This is not prose, but neither is it poetic. Poetry perhaps because of the imagery and language use, but not particularly poetic.
A difficult distinction I know.
When one reads Lincoln's Gettysburg Address the first thought is that this is strictly prose, but at further glance we come to realize that the language is... beautiful. Elegant. Even though the subject is stark and fearful, the phrasing is smooth, rhythmical and lovely to the ear.
Much of this is, some is not. Some sacrifices elegance to get the point across. A dangerous line to cross. We struggle to make the point at the same time maintaining smooth and elegant rhythm. Meter is not a do all end all. It is a way to describe successful rhythm.
I like this poem. The ruins, the weather, the history unspoken. It misses only the language. Instead of simply saying it, we must try to sing it.
Don't surrender this one. It has much to offer.
Hi Wesley
Many thanks for taking the time to visit this page and your elaborate comment. I have therefore tweaked up the poem and would appreciate your feed back and further comments.
Regards,
'of unsung heroes in the wind,'was thinking if I were included
but
reading the two above
I am simply
naturally silenced
Hi Lovedly,
Thank you for the visit and the tongue in cheek comment..lol.
Obviously you have surely realized that "unsung heroes" is in the context of the former occupants of the edifice.
Regards,
Our Wesley
usually talks to horses but I am so glad you Toad him what the picture was lol,
Yours, Yenti
raj
A double edged sword where your pictures are both of the scenic and internal struggle of us all.
Sorry I have been neglecting a few but that damn pink thing became a lot of work.
This is written well and one of your best, Talk to you later, Yours Ian.T
Thanks Ian for finding the
Thanks Ian for finding the time in spite of your preoccupation with the "Story in Pink" WS and other things in life. Good to know that you find this to be one of my better efforts. Should you re-visit this page, will look forward to your further critique.
Regards,
Thank you Gemma
Appreciate a lot your returning and gleaming up the poem. During further edits I will certainly adopt the first stanza proposed by you as it is. I may attempt to shorten the length in the suggested second stanza proposed by you and see how / if it works. Thanks a lot for taking the time and your intervention.
Regards,