Date Posted:05:49:27 01/27/00 Thu Author:Chad R. Dobson Subject: Re: ok i'm back, briefly In reply to:
Leisa*)
's message, "ok i'm back, briefly" on 13:46:00 01/26/00 Wed
Hi Leisa! You know what? I think your advice bites! Just kidding, kidding, kidding! I really see what you mean with my pronoun usage in this poem, I think I'll remove most of them but there are a couple I can not part with. As far as rhymes go, I am not a big fan so I hurt little from destroying them. Rhymes are nice but most of my rhymes are by accident or coincidence:) Thanks for the tips!
Chad
> Chad,
> my suggestions below:
> and as always, take or leave as desired.
>
> (add)
> [delete]
> (lb)= line break
>
>
> When the blood stops running
> the impulses of energy
> cease generation
> a call will suddenly go
>
> out past the range
> of understanding
> above our heads
> or maybe below
>
> To either if existing
> realm of forever
> to be answered by
> a servant ghost
>
> Silently it is propositioned
> by a much higher host
> "Fly your way to this man
> and bring me back his soul"
>
> A nod in reply
> A swift disappearance
> from a substance
> only his brethren know
>
> And not yet aware of his passing
> the man attempts to discern
> what is happening, [because] so far above
> his body he floats
>
> The beauty that surrounds [him]
> The cool air around him
> The hard pain now receded
> This comfort is his confusion
>
> This atmosphere is no illusion
> despite [his] potential insanity throes
> Is judgment really coming
> Something he never believed [to be so]
> (i realise this messes up the rhyme here with throes
> and so
> but i think it unnecesarry)
>
> The man comes to a realization
> that his theory
> was such a different awakening
> There would be no apprehension
>
> Great Reconciliation....No
>
> Only tranquil transition
> from one existence to the next
> A spirit born of peace
> or a haunt born(;) [from] unrest
>
> The results of his denial
> The choice of [his] faith
> hang [before him so] ominously
> before a newly appeared gate
>
> Slowly the hinges creak
> The first sound heard in oblivion
> The door swings open
> of its own accord
>
> The frightened mist moves forward and through
>
> The open space fades
> brick walls emerge
> enclosing the man
> within a great hall
>
> Here from horsehair and oil
> of heavenly hands
> depictions of inquisitions
> at a kings command
>
> A man bled to death
> on pillars of stone
> and [the] gray ashes of a woman
> crawling with [a] soft breeze, away form a smoking
> pyre
>
> [With] each step down the gruesome alley
> another torture works to absolve
> the mans fear of damnation(,)
> [Though] he maintains his stature
>
> and still secretly worships
> his other Gods
