A Pretense of Nature

NOTE: Two different editions of the poem are found below the original post, with the help of you critiques. Thank you.

Looking for indepth writing critique and severe thought and perspective.
I want to know what I have succeeded in communicating to the reader.
Thank you.
-M.


"Nor less, I trust,
To them I may have owed another gift,
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
of all this unintelligible world,
is lightened:-that serene and blessed mood,"
-Wordsworth


~*~


The sky is an eyelid,
weeping of Furies and Sorrows;
but eyes are more honest than this:
lies cannot sincerely smile,
lies cannot speak symphonies of wordless thought and traveled wonderment,
for are not feelings the free-whim conductor of man?
Truth and Trust stretch within the honest globe,
and Shakespeare-Lies may only perform,
moreover pretend.
Dark eyes can shout and stretch of death;
it is an inconclusive blessing that the birds and bees feast upon the instrument,
for these beast save us from what the dead are thinking,
save us from their secrets and sufferings.
Eyes do not write pretentious poetry,
but both pretentious and sincere poems are written of the sky.
Eyes roar out their brutally harsh,
brokenly passionate truths;
sometimes whispering quite loudly of weariness and unforgotten crimes.
But the sky is an eyelid;
it can say none of these things.
The sky cannot contrive words,
leaving the thoughts maddening,
fortuitously hidden behind to be fashioned by men.
Haughty man, blind to his own eyes' self-truths,
For within one's self,
it is known that the sky will plead another system-story-case to some other,
The great vast expectant sky can expound but a little,
to one open and entitled and only capable of comprehending so Lilliputian a perspective.

ok. I thought that this was lovely! It really is wonderful. The only things I could find were tiny tiny things to do with grammar (shown below). I also changed one line a little so that it flows better - not sure what you'll think of this but hope my review was helpful!

The sky is an eyelid,

weeping of Furies and Sorrows;

but eyes are more honest than this:

lies cannot sincerely smile,

lies cannot speak symphonies of wordless thought and traveled wonder:

for are not feelings the free-whim conductor of man?

Truth and Trust stretch within the honest globe,

and Shakespeare-Lies may only perform,

moreover pretend.

Dark eyes can shout and stretch of death;

it is an inconclusive blessing that the birds and bees feast upon the instrument,

for these beasts save us from what the dead are thinking;

save us from their secrets and sufferings.

Eyes do not write pretentious poetry,

but both pretentious and sincere poems are written of the sky.

Eyes roar out their brutally harsh,

brokenly passionate truths;

sometimes whispering quite loudly of weariness and unforgotten crimes.

But the sky is an eyelid;

it cannot speak these things.

The sky cannot contrive words,

leaving the thoughts maddening,

fortuitously hidden behind to be fashioned by men.

Haughty man, blind to his own eyes' self-truths,

For within one's self,

it is known that the sky will plead another system-story-case to some other,

The great vast expectant sky can expound but a little,

to one open and entitled and only capable of comprehending so Lilliputian a perspective.

Dark eyes can shout and stretch of death;
it is an inconclusive blessing that the birds and bees feast upon the instrument,
for these beast save us from what the dead are thinking,
save us from their secrets and sufferings.

This has to be my favorite stanza because it is so earthly and dark; the idea that creatures eat the eyes of the dead to keep us from having to see their thoughts. It's truly beautiful. However, I find the use of "bees" for alliteration not to be my liking because one is not used to thinking of bees as dead-eating creatures. What about beetles?

I like the way you compare eyes as being the most honest things in man to the sky as an eyelid, suggestive of being closed and not imparting secrets. However since most of this idea was expressed at the end, and I was confused about the end... it was hard for me to comprehend your whole theme.

Haughty man, blind to his own eyes' self-truths,
For within one's self,
it is known that the sky will plead another system-story-case to some other,
The great vast expectant sky can expound but a little,
to one open and entitled and only capable of comprehending so Lilliputian a perspective.

This is where I started getting confused, mostly in the third line of what I quote. I didn't understand "system-story-case". Your last line has me lost because it does grammatically make sense to me. All that I quoted is one sentence (unless you intended a period at the end of the third line). With the last line you start "to one open and entitled". I think you mean "can expound to one" so then it makes sense, but with "but a little" in between, and the comma, it takes a while for the whole phrase to make sense. I read your poem three times and I'm still lost as to what you're trying to get at apart from man having a Lilliputian perspective of the sky.

I liked the connection between the sky and the eyes, like I said, but due to either your complicated closing or the fact that I'm not understanding the overall message, the theme is lost on me and I cannot fully appreciate the poem. I loved all of your allusions to various things in literature, especially because I recognized them.

I hope this review helped! Keep writing; you've got the bits most people don't understand about poetry down. That's a lovely start.

Edited version:

The sky is an eyelid,
weeping of Furies and Sorrows;
but eyes are more honest than this:
lies cannot sincerely smile,
lies cannot speak symphonies of wordless thought and traveled wonderment.
Are not feelings the free-whim conductor of man?
Truth and Trust stretch within the honest globe,
and Shakespeare-Lies may only perform,
moreover pretend.
Dark eyes can shout and stretch of death;
it is an inconclusive blessing that the birds and bees feast upon the instrument;
these beast save us from what the dead are thinking,
save us from their secrets and sufferings.
Eyes do not write pretentious poetry,
but both pretentious and sincere poems are written of the sky.
Eyes roar out their brutally harsh,
brokenly passionate truths;
sometimes whispering quite loudly of weariness and unforgotten crimes.
The sky is an eyelid;
it may say none of these things.
The sky cannot contrive words;
leaving behind the thoughts fortuitously maddening,
for man to interpret, translate, fashion, fabricate.
Haughty man, blind to his own eyes' self-truths,
For within one's self,
the truth is unspoken but known,
The great vast expectant sky can expound but a little,
to one so open and entitled
yet only capable of comprehending the Lilliputian perspective.



Is the language more clear?
How does this change your impression of the poem?

On bees vs. beetles:

The bible, Amplified Version
Judges 14:5-14

Then Samson and his father and mother went down to Timnah and came to the vineyards of Timnah. And behold, a young lion roared against him.
And the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon him, and he tore the lion as he would have torn a kid, and he had nothing in his hand; but he did not tell his father or mother what he had done.
And he went down and talked with the woman, and she pleased Samson well.
And after a while he returned to take her, and he turned aside to see the body of the lion, and behold, a swarm of bees and honey were in the body of the lion. And he scraped some of the honey out into his hands and went along eating. And he came to his father and mother and gave them some, and they ate it; but he did not tell them he had taken the honey from the body of the lion.
His father went down to the woman, and Samson made a feast there, for that was the customary thing for young men to do.
And when the people saw him, they brought thirty companions to be with him.
And Samson said to them, I will now put forth a riddle to you; if you can tell me what it is within the seven days of the feast, and find it out, then I will give you thirty linen undergarments and thirty changes of raiment.
But if you cannot declare it to me, then shall you give me thirty linen undergarments and thirty changes of festive [costly] raiment. And they said to him, Put forth your riddle, that we may hear it.
And he said to them, Out of the eater came forth food, and out of the strong came forth sweetness. And they could not solve the riddle in three days.


Thank you Jemima and Suzanne very much for your critiques.

Ahh your clarification on bees makes it much more beautiful. ^^ It's so hard to catch certain allusions like that, but makes it well worth it.

these beast save us from what the dead are thinking,

I think "beast" ought to be plural?

The sky is an eyelid;
it may say none of these things.

I have this great inclination to suggest you make a new stanza at this part because it's a shift in topic, and would let you "conclusion" have its own stanza, and therefore give it a strength over the rest. Mostly opinion, though.

the truth is unspoken but known,
The great vast expectant sky can expound but a little,

I think I mentioned this previously, and am still bothered by it. You have "The great" capitalized, but a comma comes before it, and in the rest of the poem you punctuate/capitalize grammatically so I feel "The" should either be lower case, or the comma should be a period. Am I wrong? Please - if I am - could you explain this to me?

I absolutely love all the changes you have made, and like I said, the allusion you explained to me only makes the poem more lovely. You are certainly one of the greater poets I've found within my recent days return, and I'm glad to have found you. To me this poem represents man's search for truth, and as you point it, the search for truth in nature/the sky, when the real truth is within our eyes, within ourselves. We assume that we can find all of life's things within nature, when they're all in ourselves. Perhaps I am wrong in this? It feels like some sort of reincarnation of Romantic thought, although with more of a Transcendental look because it focuses so strongly on man. I can't really put to words with this poem makes me feel/think because it's hard to communicate it, but whatever it is I absolutely adore it. You've edited it perfectly, in my mind, and other than the minor nitpicks and opinions I gave above, I couldn't find anything else to comment on. It was good to begin with but you have easily succeeded in making it that much better.

I would suggest adding some sort of note in your original thread (if you are confused, there is an edit button) so that people know to scroll down and see the new version. ^_~ I would hate for anyone to miss this beautiful piece.

Best of luck in future endeavors! I hope to read more from you soon.

PS: I would be honored by your friendship! heehee.

Again, an edition, with Suzanne's awesome aid:

The sky is an eyelid,
weeping of Furies and Sorrows;
but eyes are more honest than this:
lies cannot sincerely smile,
lies cannot speak symphonies of wordless thought and traveled wonderment.
Are not feelings the free-whim conductor of man?
Truth and Trust stretch within the honest globe,
and Shakespeare-Lies may only perform,
moreover pretend.

Dark eyes can shout and stretch of death;
it is an inconclusive blessing that the birds and bees feast upon the instrument;
these beasts save us from what the dead are thinking,
save us from their secrets and sufferings.
Eyes do not write pretentious poetry,
but both pretentious and sincere poems are written of the sky.
Eyes roar out their brutally harsh,
brokenly passionate truths;
sometimes whispering quite loudly of weariness and unforgotten crimes.

The sky is an eyelid;
it may say none of these things.
The sky cannot contrive words;
leaving behind the thoughts fortuitously maddening,
for man to interpret, translate, fashion, fabricate.
Haughty man, blind to his own eyes' self-truths,
For within one's self,
the truth is unspoken but known,
the vast expectant sky can expound but a little,
to one so open and entitled
yet only capable of comprehending the Lilliputian perspective.


<3 Suzanne:
Thank you for your kindness. I really appreciate the time and thought you've put into this.

The capitalization error you noted, "The great vast expectant sky" I'm a little embarrassed that I forgot to change that, I was preoccupied with the 'writing' after I read your first critique, and forgot to fix the typo. Thanks again for the reminder.
I feel a little insecure with the spacing out of the stanzas. And I'm not sure if I like it as one, two, or three better.
I'm really pleased to see what you drew out of my writing. To have someone peel back the bark and look at the core, the meat, of the thing blesses me and encourages me more to keep writing than anything else.

I might add some questions to your interpretation, but not as if it needs them:

With what sight do we see truth, and where is truth reflected.
Does nature reflect the truth in our own eyes,
or do our eyes reflect the truth hidden in nature.
Within us, is a liar and a seer - in who do we believe?
If nature is not in itself as deep and core and as alive as our own souls,
when we look deep into the nature of truth and find it in the soul of the world, is that because the world is reflecting back at us what we are looking for, that which can be found within us?
Or does it exist i the world without us?
Nature? Natural man? Spiritual man? Who is reflected in who? Which is the greatest, the loudest, the deepest, the most needed?


With what do we identify truth?

beautiful <3