William Clark
I saw the fury
I saw the sea change
I saw the ship
I saw the patriot
I saw the banded
I saw the readied
I saw the marching
I saw the breath of god
I saw the movement
I saw the pieces
I saw the broken
I saw the wounded
I saw the afterward
I saw the bloodied
I saw the sons of heaven
I saw the gates of hell
I saw the angels
I saw the taken
I saw the retreating
I saw the mighty
I saw the victorious
I saw the morning
I saw the illness
I saw the hungry
I saw the widow
I saw the orphan
I saw the dearth
I saw the loyalty
I saw the reverence
I saw the frightened
I saw the buckling
I saw the changing
I saw the messenger
I saw the Bluegrass
I saw the remainder
I saw the potential
I saw the longevity
I saw the waiting
I saw the glory
I saw the presence
I saw the freedom
I saw the aching
I saw the foraging
I saw the beauty
I saw the ravaged
I saw the survivor
I saw the wondrous
I saw the adventurer
I saw the compass
I saw the west
I saw the girth
I saw the open
I saw the river
I saw the spacious
I saw the prairie
I saw the emptied
I saw the abandoned
I saw the buffalo
I saw the untempered
I saw the mountain
I saw the kingdom
I saw the hand of god
I saw the substantial
I saw the thriving
I saw the forsaken
I saw the thirsty
I saw the settler
I saw the gathering
I saw the fervent
I saw the almost
I saw the vastness
I saw the salmon
I saw the timber
I saw the promised land
I saw the people
I saw the fire
I followed the chanting
I heard the voice of god
I knew the wind
I found the seaway
I let it push me
I felt the rapture
I saw the beginning
I saw the end
I saw the yesterday
I saw the tomorrow
I saw the sea change
I saw the ship
I saw the patriot
I saw the banded
I saw the readied
I saw the marching
I saw the breath of god
I saw the movement
I saw the pieces
I saw the broken
I saw the wounded
I saw the afterward
I saw the bloodied
I saw the sons of heaven
I saw the gates of hell
I saw the angels
I saw the taken
I saw the retreating
I saw the mighty
I saw the victorious
I saw the morning
I saw the illness
I saw the hungry
I saw the widow
I saw the orphan
I saw the dearth
I saw the loyalty
I saw the reverence
I saw the frightened
I saw the buckling
I saw the changing
I saw the messenger
I saw the Bluegrass
I saw the remainder
I saw the potential
I saw the longevity
I saw the waiting
I saw the glory
I saw the presence
I saw the freedom
I saw the aching
I saw the foraging
I saw the beauty
I saw the ravaged
I saw the survivor
I saw the wondrous
I saw the adventurer
I saw the compass
I saw the west
I saw the girth
I saw the open
I saw the river
I saw the spacious
I saw the prairie
I saw the emptied
I saw the abandoned
I saw the buffalo
I saw the untempered
I saw the mountain
I saw the kingdom
I saw the hand of god
I saw the substantial
I saw the thriving
I saw the forsaken
I saw the thirsty
I saw the settler
I saw the gathering
I saw the fervent
I saw the almost
I saw the vastness
I saw the salmon
I saw the timber
I saw the promised land
I saw the people
I saw the fire
I followed the chanting
I heard the voice of god
I knew the wind
I found the seaway
I let it push me
I felt the rapture
I saw the beginning
I saw the end
I saw the yesterday
I saw the tomorrow
posted by SPOA | 7:34 PM
5 Comments:
Cool. Squeezed through a maze of faltering interweb tubes. With a little help from wherever.
moving
I feel like I just explored america, but more important, I feel I have made a spiritual unfolding during an imagined journey. Images can access the inner core and help us to be, as Wayne Dyer says, "in spirit", which, according to him, is the meaning of "inspired".
I liked the eventual, ever so patient, transition to "felt", etc., then back to "saw (or see?)".
For some reason, my mind liked "I saw almost". To me, that is a provocative almost-image conveying the kind of moving we do and feel through life.
Oh, thanks for checking out my blog - the poem "Moon".
Darrell
I had some odd, but possibly useful, thoughts that might help any poet critique his/her, or each other's works. Color, Tone, Form. Whether or not I practice what I preach below is a matter I hope to gradually take up with myself, but I do think these critique concepts constitute a "sermon" worth contemplating.
Color: the dance and pop of the images, like a brightly-colored flitting butterfly or an earthy moist slithering snail passing by and grabbing the reader's attention in a sort of concrete way. Do the words of the poem invoke compelling images, varied imagery, unique imagery, seem like you can "touch it", etc.?
Tone: Can the reader's mind sense that something worthwhile is going on in the poem, that the poet is going through a real, heart-felt, and heart-guided (or spirit-guided) life experience? Does the poem feel real enough to share it's intent with you as the reader? Does it take you somewhere? Does it move you?
Form: Is the poem woven together in a satisfying way, creating a sense of dynamic integration of the various elements of the poem? Lyrical qualities? Ebb and Flow? Good composition of the images or thoughts (a bright note here, a dark note there, as though to compliment one another). I suppose form would also include the themes. Are they established in the poem. Tone is feeling the gravity or direction, but the thematic part of Form is knowing what the hell the poem is about. Of course, this doesn't mean just telling the reader. That would be like reading a schemata - not poetry. But does the poem set some recognizable themes forward for the reader to ponder?
Now, can we actually use these concepts to help us critique our poems? No doubt, the tone of William Clark was strong, a sense of traveling with him, discovering life itself, unfolding.
Color: plenty of varied and interesting concrete images. Although the images were more impressionistic, seldom messy enough to require more side trips of extra words, more descriptive words. Great poem as is. It works. Not sure I'd change anything, but in terms of poems in general (say, a collection of poems), I would like to see more obsessive description. I loved seeing "almost". It might mess up the flow to concretely describe and actual "almost", but "almost" needs to be described in other poems. "The goalie's fingers stretched toward the ball, nearly grabbing it, as the world just rolled on by, into the great by and by of big games almost won." That would disrupt the flow of William Clark, but is something we would like to include in other poems.
Form: I already mentioned how I liked the transition from saw to felt (etc.) and then back to saw. That is a compositionally interesting element that puts the high degree of repetition to good use, saves it. The poem is like a spiritual folk song with intentional "drone" (that is the title of the poem I am working on now) sound that creates continuity/flow. But to have a variation, brought (to me) sweet salvation to the life of the poem. "Salvation by Variation"? Or is this a variation of (the theological concept of) "salvation"? No matter. I really enjoyed the poem, and it en-joyed me, in the sense of putting joy into me. Darrell
Karen, I posted a new poem on Allsberg Cafe. I plan to put up a new one every week, in a series called "Storied", indicating a sort of stacking of one life experience onto another, until an invisible building is constructed. The poem is called Where the Yard Was.
Here's the link to the post: Allsberg Cafe 2009
The attempted link doesn't look active. If it doesn't come to life when I post this comment, my blog is jarwritersandsearchers.blogspot.com
I am sharing the Storied series on Facebook, if you would like to join me there. Thinking of forming a poet support group on Facebook, using the "jar" name. Would you be interested in joining that group? We could get valuable feedback about our poems, and could process some marketing/publishing ideas, etc.
Darrell
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