fahye | (no subject)

Entry tags:

poetry

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Aristotle

You will not find the soul within my eyes;
no steady gaze or sunset-lidded glance
holds such a thing. And should you try to prise

apart my truer ribs, you'll realise
the heart beats dumb and takes no eager stance
on poetry. Ask not if the soul lies

in molecules that mingle and enhance
the neuron's power to fire and analyse,
the trembling of a shoulder turned askance;

distill me not to body parts. You'll chance
upon the soul in no such bleak disguise;
the soul is not the feet: it is the dance.

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That is a brilliant last line.

Thank you! I often approach poems like stories, in that I try to have the beginning and the end done first, to define the shape.

oh, Fahye.

It has been way too long since I wrote something with strict form! Mmm, iambs.

Mmmm iambs. I should try some iambs, now that I know how they work.

Iambic pentameter is my One True Metre but I do like playing with different rhyming structures. I don't think I'm too fond of this one -- TWO word sounds is not quite enough -- but you know me, why impose a small amount of control when one can impose a lot?

I do like that rhyme scheme - especially with the inversion halfway through :)

Me too! I have been reading Wilfred Owen, who does all sorts of fun sonnety things with structure, and that one struck me as good for a challenge. Here's his:

THE KIND GHOSTS

She sleeps on soft, last breaths; but no ghost looms
Out of the stillness of her palace wall,
Her wall of boys on boys and dooms on dooms.

She dreams of golden gardens and sweet glooms,
Not marvelling why her roses never fall
Nor what red mouths were torn to make their blooms.

The shades keep down which well migh roam her hall.
Quiet their blood lies in her crimson rooms
And she is not afraid of their footfall.

They move not from her tapestries, their pall,
Nor pace her terraces, their hecatombs,
Lest aught she be disturbed, or grieved at all.

... If i start composing metrical poetry, you deserve AT LEAST HALF OF THE BLAME.

The other half, of course, goes to my boss.

Ooh oooh it's like terza rima but it's not quite terza rima I LIKE IT.

It is all Wilfred Owen's fault.

As are so many things in life. I might use this for my speech recording experiment later, if that's all right with you?

Man, absolutely! I'd love to hear it, too.

Dry signal (http://www.sendspace.com/file/vthqez)
Post-mixing (http://www.sendspace.com/file/89ydi0)

Edited 2010-10-19 16:47 (UTC)

That is absolutely gorgeous.

The soul is not the feet: it is the dance.

Whoa. That and "Ask not if the soul lies/in molecules that mingle and enhance..." and the rest of that verse. Especially the shift from the microscopic to the visible; that really kind of got me, for some reason. I wish I could write like this.

Christ it is my policy strictly not to comment on anything - I'm a tried-and-true lurker, be it right or wrong. But that is one of the most beautiful things I have ever read, and you need to get it out there. It's entirely in the first line for me.

Wow, thank you :) It's very flattering that this short thing could lure you out of lurkerdom.

Love&science, still so good!

I like especially:

And should you try to prise

apart my truer ribs, you'll realise
the heart beats dumb

distill me not to body parts

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