Rod in hand, poets cast their lines,
Starting splashes, splaying the surface of the stream
Of consciousness, of generations,
Which whispers of forbidden subjects;
They make these plain, the stream awake.
And then the lines reach the to the depths
Of that stream, of the soul,
Carried down
By the weight
Of life, of death, of the whispered words
Of the soft-spoken stream.
The crash of the well-worded weights brings these
To light, stirring up the dirt left lying still since
The dawn of time.
They lure us in with metered lines
And pretty rhymes,
With colorful copies of reality,
Cleverly crafted to appear more beautiful.
Then, just when we least expect it,
We’re hooked,
Mind reeling, pulled toward some higher truth.
Poets are fishers of men.
I like it alot. It'll go into my quotes on fb I think.
ReplyDeleteSince I already think it's a good poem, I'm going to spend more time on its weaknesses.
ReplyDeleteI would try to play with lineation so most verses in a stanza are of the same length. This just helps with flow, and I think it would help immensely in the final stanza.
Might it be more interesting to not use the word "poet" in the piece? I'm not sure that it's a good idea but it seems like it could be useful...
The alliteration in the second line feels forced and overwrought. Line five has an awkward syntax, but an excellent image.
In the second stanza, I'd suggest some serious lineation revision. I think you might also be able to play with the paralellism of "of" and improve it (Maybe one or two less times?).
The third stanza is the weakest, in my opinion. Mr. Seay (my poetry teacher) likes to say "Show, Don't Tell" and I feel like that applies here. Is there a way of making this stanza more about showing, with more depth and some imagery?
That all said, a very good and enjoyable piece.