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Soft on the road like a tumbleweed,
through the thick mass of pines,
down by the river I rambled.
In the light of this new day
there are no barking dogs
and men with torches--
only sunny knolls for me to top.
A shack, fenced by the trees,
hidden-- until the moment his gun barked.
His scent whispered through like a resin kiss
loud enough that he surely had heard.
In rough-spun and waders,
he gave no sign . . . he put the gun
away and made supper.
I am likeable enough when I've eaten.
I almost heard him once
when he was retracing his steps
through the years,
but then my stomach began to growl
and it drowned him
in blood.
I could only tell with my eyes closed.
When he started trying to impress me,
I knew he would expose me if he could.
He stood up and belched out guffaws
saying once he had run with outlaws
barely escaping with his life
more than once.
He never beat his chest with his fists,
only with his mouth.
If they knew what he knew, I couldn't take my time.
We sat on his bed,
I dreamed of the very near future
in specific detail. Each layer sprinkled
with his incessant babbling.
He played a song for me.
I annoyed him when I scratched the strings.
While he played, for the first time
I heard him clearly.
His hand brushed my leg;
we tried not to notice.
He was done with me then.
My disinterest had burned his mouth shut
so he guarded the beans,
sullen.
He would be tough, but I have strong teeth.
I was out of my chair
when he was still grumbling.
Careful aim
congratulated his face
with the old box guitar.
Sadly, the dreadnaught was completely ruined.
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Mark, the voice here is confusing -- through the entire poem, until the last few lines, I was thinking that your voice was a wolf or mountain lion or something and the old man was one of those nice hermits who fed critters to stop them eating him  Then I started thinking werewolf, because cannibal just doesn't fit. I didn't understand the dreadnaught thing (it's a ship in my head!) until I googled "dreadnought" -- I'm ok with that, I have remedied my ignorance. I think the biggest thing this suffers from is Too Much Information -- a lot of tell, not show, but the telling is all over the place and not coming anywhere near a straight line in my mind. Lots of adjectives that could go -- "thick mass", "specific detail", "incessant babbling", you get the picture. Trim away all the excess so the real poem isn't lost.
It could be worse
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This is a very male voice yet the reading exposes a feminine personality speaking the lines. so it can work for a women or a male companion
Your hook line is L8 all before is fill setting the background, you don’t need them unless you can rework them and sit them at the end. That sometimes works but not always and how about cutting the word barked, it makes drama and a longer hesitation as one would if a gun had just gone off. Sometimes it’s what is not written that works for the better , just an idea worth looking at
A shack, fenced by the trees,
hidden-- until the moment his gun!
His scent whispered through like a resin kiss
Perfection changes with the light and light goes on for infinity ~~~Bronte
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hello mark
there is a lot to dig through here. on a very side note, I think your title will lead people to think of ships, which will direct their interpretation for some time, especially as the instrument (i believe) does not appear for some time. that, in and of itself, is not a problem, but I just wanted to explain. perhaps bringing up a mention (however slight) of the guitar a little sooner could act as a guide.
that said, a light line-by
(03-20-2012, 06:42 AM)Mark Wrote: Soft on the road like a tumbleweed,
through the thick mass of pines,
down by the river I rambled.
In the light of this new day
there are no barking dogs
and men with torches--
only sunny knolls for me to top....this is a lot of backstory I don't think anyone needs to get attached to. the poem still starts fine after this
A shack, fenced by the trees,
hidden-- until the moment his gun barked.
His scent whispered through like a resin kiss
loud enough that he surely had heard.
In rough-spun and waders,
he gave no sign . . . he put the gun
away and made supper.
I am likeable enough when I've eaten.
I almost heard him once
when he was retracing his steps
through the years,
but then my stomach began to growl
and it drowned him
in blood.
I could only tell with my eyes closed....these one-liners did little for me, personally; I actually felt like I got more from the poem without them
When he started trying to impress me,
I knew he would expose me if he could.
He stood up and belched out guffaws ...read through this a few more times, and I think this stanza actually could make for a good introduction for the poem. it is clear, understandable, and interesting
saying once he had run with outlaws
barely escaping with his life
more than once.
He never beat his chest with his fists,
only with his mouth.
If they knew what he knew, I couldn't take my time.
We sat on his bed,
I dreamed of the very near future
in specific detail. Each layer sprinkled
with his incessant babbling.
He played a song for me.
I annoyed him when I scratched the strings.
While he played, for the first time
I heard him clearly.
His hand brushed my leg;
we tried not to notice. ...really liked this note
He was done with me then. ...how did you know?
My disinterest had burned his mouth shut..you start to show, but not before telling too much
so he guarded the beans,...like this line. how do you know he was sullen? what did he do? lower his eyes? his mouth? avoid eye contact?
sullen.
He would be tough, but I have strong teeth.
I was out of my chair
when he was still grumbling.
Careful aim
congratulated his face
with the old box guitar.
Sadly, the dreadnaught was completely ruined.
one note I had was that the subjects of most of your verbs are I's, We's, and His's ____.
I think by mixing it up a little bit, finding other subjects for your verbs, it will make the piece feel slightly less like a linear story. as is, there is a lot of "He did this, so I did this"
hopefully this helps. thanks for the read man
Written only for you to consider.
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Hi Mark,
I'm getting a hillbilly cannibal or a werewolf read on this one. A couple of quick observations:
Try to build the poem from the lines that really matter. For instance L1 could stand alone from the first strophe. I don't need the woods or the river just the stealth and the motion, the careless movement.
L5-7 works for me because it says monster and points to something happening.
L8-9 Is somewhat sparse you could cut things like until the moment and just stick with the action. You could choose to rearrange the line to break on bark to point back to the barking dogs...something like
...until the bark
of his gun
I'll stop there since we're in mild, but my main advice is to ask yourself what are the best lines and start cutting the others. You could probably cut half of this and have something stronger with more tension.
I do think there's something here and it would be worth it to see it come out.
Best,
Todd
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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(03-20-2012, 06:42 AM)Mark Wrote: Soft on the road like a tumbleweed,
through the thick mass of pines, I'd start with this
down by the river I rambled.
In the light of this new day
there are no barking dogs (were)
and men with torches-- nor men with...
only sunny knolls for me to top.
A shack, fenced by the trees,
hidden-- until the moment his gun barked.
His scent whispered through like a resin kiss (delete kiss)
loud enough that he surely had heard. (heard what, you playing his guitar?)
In rough-spun and waders,
he gave no sign . . . he put the gun
away and made supper.
I am likeable enough when I've eaten.
I almost heard him once (once what?)
when he was retracing his steps
through the years,
but then my stomach began to growl
and it drowned him
in blood.
I could only tell with my eyes closed. ????
When he started trying to impress me,
I knew he would expose me if he could. ???????????
He stood up and belched out guffaws
saying once he had run with outlaws
barely escaping with his life
more than once.
He never beat his chest with his fists,
only with his mouth. nice line
If they knew what he knew, I couldn't take my time. ????????? Who???
We sat on his bed,
I dreamed of the very near future
in specific detail. Each layer sprinkled
with his incessant babbling. don't get the point
He played a song for me.
I annoyed him when I scratched the strings.
While he played, for the first time
I heard him clearly. (?????)
His hand brushed my leg;
we tried not to notice.
He was done with me then.
My disinterest had burned his mouth shut
so he guarded the beans,
sullen. (sullenly)
He would be tough, but I have strong teeth.
I was out of my chair
when he was still grumbling.
Careful aim
congratulated his face (????) corrugated?
with the old box guitar. (you can leave out this line)
Sadly, the dreadnaught was completely ruined.
---------------------------------------------------
Mark,
I have to agree that there is a lot of extraneous material in the first part of this that causes confusion more than anything else. At first I thought it was the KKK. I think you need to be a little more direct/clear with what you are saying. some of this, even in retrospect makes little sense.
Dale
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
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guys!! all I see is two blokes one hitting on the other and the other in turn popping him open with his gi tar
like that cowboy movie!
which I have not seen I must be getting old.
or have a very naughty mind about making music
Perfection changes with the light and light goes on for infinity ~~~Bronte
Posts: 2,360
Threads: 230
Joined: Oct 2010
Yeah, I see that with a slight werewolf overtone (torches and dogs and the like).
(03-20-2012, 09:01 PM)Bronte Wrote: guys!! all I see is two blokes one hitting on the other and the other in turn popping him open with his gi tar
like that cowboy movie!
which I have not seen I must be getting old.
or have a very naughty mind about making music
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
Posts: 1,827
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Joined: Dec 2016
Why do I think there is some cannibalism about to happen?
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
Posts: 342
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Joined: Sep 2011
(03-20-2012, 09:01 PM)Bronte Wrote: guys!! all I see is two blokes one hitting on the other and the other in turn popping him open with his gi tar
like that cowboy movie!
which I have not seen I must be getting old.
or have a very naughty mind about making music
Not Brokeback Mountain
(03-20-2012, 10:21 PM)Todd Wrote: Yeah, I see that with a slight werewolf overtone (torches and dogs and the like).
(03-20-2012, 09:01 PM)Bronte Wrote: guys!! all I see is two blokes one hitting on the other and the other in turn popping him open with his gi tar
like that cowboy movie!
which I have not seen I must be getting old.
or have a very naughty mind about making music
Not the Wolfman
(03-22-2012, 04:44 PM)Erthona Wrote: Why do I think there is some cannibalism about to happen?
Because you are always right
I'm working on another rewrite. Even though this isn't what I want it to be, it is much closer. Thanks to everyone for the feedback.
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Just so they know
[Image: http://ts4.mm.bing.net/images/thumbnail....2d25a29ce7]
This is an Alvarez, I would prefer a Euphonium, but I couldn't find a picture.
Dale
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
Posts: 342
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Joined: Sep 2011
It also might have helped if I spelled it right 
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I found a few people that also spelled the guitar with your spelling though the other spelling seems to be the standard one.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
Posts: 342
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Joined: Sep 2011
(03-23-2012, 02:54 AM)Todd Wrote: I found a few people that also spelled the guitar with your spelling though the other spelling seems to be the standard one.
Title corrected
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