Survivors

Survivors

Monday, April 7, 2014

I Wish That I Might Write...


©  Steve King
All rights reserved


I wish that I might write the way
that others do when they tell me
they’re moved by muses sharing free
all the things there are to say.

I wish I had that bully roost
with tones to echo in the vault,
whispers ever to exalt,
and every ease to shout my news.

I pray for an occasioned flight—
but only faintest stars align;
no new discovered worlds shine,
no comets blazon my midnights.

Alas, I’m tethered to this earth—
the world my lens, support and reach;
every word a bloody breach,
each new strophe an orphan’s birth.

No satisfaction to inveigh,
like every thought that comes to stay
I’ll treat it gently, simply say:
I wish that I might write that way
those others tell of, every day.


 A new poem to be shared on


24 comments:

  1. I'd say you here are exactly where we all need to be. Paying enough attention to confirm our work can only be small. Nice trope on the theme. The meter gets clogged here and there. I'm guessing the aim is to write faultlessly about our faults. Thanks for grabbing a lilypad at Real Toads.

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  2. An admirable wish but we are all different; what star to set our sails by?

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  3. I think the muse is where we hang our successes and failures without discrimination. As your illustration shows, we each lift the screen of illusion from where we are to see whether to confirm or deny. And this, Steve, is a successful poem to me, making lyric what we think the others have. Ha!

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    1. Thanks, Susan. I guess the grass always seems greener in someone else's yard!

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  4. I like how the poem goes full circle. Enjoyed.

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  5. This poem reminds me a bit of your blog header, Steve--pushing our heads through into a foreign, cogwork world behind the visible sky, and having to shield our eyes--I won't belabor the point you make by saying you couldn't write like this if you didn't hear the infamous muse and her babbling, because you make a valid point--how often the work of others seems to soar on wings we can't grow, or even build out of wax and feathers, Yet, we all sing on. Some interesting points to ponder here, well-delivered and emotionally strong.

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  6. I found the second to last stanza particularly affecting in its description of the poet's humanity, and the toil that is his life's work. The whole has the feel of a classic in its extraordinary use of form and structure.

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  7. With all due respect, meter be damned...well, we are never quite satisfied...are we...nevertheless...I so look forward to reading your poetry, and wish I had the elegance you always put forth...see what I mean...there I go...:) Love it, Steve! ~jackie~

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    1. I think it's okay, too. It's really designed more for natural spoken English, with inherent pauses, etc. Thanks for the comment, Jackie.

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  8. "Alas, I’m tethered to this earth—
    the world my lens, support and reach;
    every word a bloody breach,
    each new strophe an orphan’s birth."

    Oh Steve, how interesting to read this wish "to write the way that others do," knowing that I myself do wish the same, and high on list of "others" is you!! Your writing is always wonderful. I especially your allusion to "bloody breached birthing" in this stanza. I do get hung up a bit on the last two lines though, and might humbly suggest a couple of changes to improve the flow: the third line is only 7 syllables, perhaps increasing to 8 would improve meter. Maybe something like "where every word's a bloody breach" or maybe "each word becomes a bloody breach." The 4th line I am hung up on where the accent of the words fall on "Each new strophe an" I kind of like the flow a bit better rephrased as "each strophe new, an orphan's birth. I hear the meter better. Just a couple of humble suggestions my friend. You know you are always one of my favorites!

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    1. correction, meant to say 'I especially "love" your allusion…' slipped and missed that word, sorry.

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    2. Thanks, Ginny. There are a couple of other "7s" in this as well. I'm really concentrating on the four strong accented sounds that are in each line. I wonder if the last two lines in the fourth stanza would feel as terse and raw with an extra modifying word/syllable? I think it 'speaks' well. That was my test in composing it. I'll think about your comments, though. Nice to converse--and I enjoy the philosophical challenge!

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  9. Well said and I do relate. Sometimes my poems feel like unaligned orphans looking for love or stardom! I like the twist of using your poetic skill to write about not writing with skill.

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  10. I too feel the same way! I loved your poem and how you invited us in to ponder-all verse through our universe~ Fun to read

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  11. i think we can all relate to your words....and it's not that bad a journey
    to be led by dissatisfaction...mark of a striving soul...

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  12. Yes, I can relate. Rare times the words just come without effort. Most of the time it comes with labor pains.

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  13. Ha! I think you write just fine! This is so sweet and winsome and so beautifully stated--I especially like the line about each new strophe and orphan's birth--first the strophe seems such a good cradle to me! And also I can't help thinking of orphans' lines-- it's a typographical term I guess about running over lines--and it seems to fit here so beautifully since you complain that your lines don't run over, and that they are each isolated, and yet though you have these discrete beautifully crafted stanzas, they do of course fit as a whole, making a beautiful little shelter for your thoughts--just terrific. k.

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    1. I meant--each new strophe AN orphan's birth.

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  14. I end up saying that a lot too (I wish I had written that) though not a well as you just did. Maybe my muse and yours are out tipping pints somewhere, rather than whispering golding words in our ears. :o)

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    1. Thanks, Mary...that would explain a lot!

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  15. I, too, am in awe of the Joseph Harkers of the world, whose poetry is so rich and etheral... but this poem, simply stating what qualities you wish you had, is in itself so eloquent. I have no "muse" either, no magic, shining fairy dust sprinkled on the deepest recesses of my soul. I only have my truth, and I tell it plainly, much more plainly than you! So, see, you are what you wish for!

    Sorry I've been absent, but my blog can attest to the tragedy that one of Riley's friends suffered, an early death through a senseless accident. All I could do was write... Thanks for your supportive words on gremlindeep. Again, I'll be around a bit more often! Great work. Amy

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    1. Thanks for visiting, Amy. As for your own writing: anything but plain!!

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  16. I was thinking of this with respect to your comment re the daily poems--I don't know that I have a lot of inspiration, but there is something about the daily exercise that is very freeing--you just can't worry if it is good enough to put out there-- Now sometimes the impulse to worry is a proper one! But it can also lead to a lot of second guessing. This is a wonderful poem-- there is a kind of modesty that shines through as well as linguistic skill. k.

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