z

Young Writers Society



Earthly Claims

by Cameron


step lightly cross the stony path, past the crooked trees
that cannot live in such thin air, us weathered travelers
enshrined in myth; the tavern whisperings of those who say
they touched the mountain’s groaning heart.

we are just passing through, stumbling past the peeling crosses
of those neglected by god’s mercy, marking ourselves
against the spirits they say huddle in the piles of stone.

the wind is our slave driver, blowing our resolve just out of reach;
the match-like flickering of our courage, casting out the demons
that dance on the cavern walls before being swallowed by the darkness.

Are we alive or dead or somewhere in between?
it's the dreamlike quality of a mind dragging its footsteps,
enthralled by the ferocious indifference of the night sky.

Come child, the wind whispers, take my hand
and let me lead you into oblivion.


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182 Reviews


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Wed Jul 11, 2007 5:04 pm
Chandni wrote a review...



Aha, that was a brilliant read :) Truly I loved it. I would call it a tee bit abstract, but that's just me. After all abstract is one thing that suits me well. Very well.

As Prosithion pointed out, it would indeed be better to leave the Italics out. You didn't use it inappropriately though but a plain look would suit the poem better. ;)

About that 5th stanza, I'd say add it and give us a glimpse on how the wholeness of it all would look like. I read it apart and to me really does fit. Nice descriptions and all like the stanzas before.

Another thing, just to make it look a little more structured. The last stanza/line is brilliant, a perfect closure leaving the reader mind gazing a bit on its own. But I would suggest to re-arrange it like this though. Just for the look ;)

Come child, the wind whispers, take my hand
and let me lead you into oblivion.


Preferably without the italics.

Once again, nice read :)

Cheerios, Chandni




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Mon Jul 09, 2007 4:37 pm
Prosithion wrote a review...



Good poem, but please get rid of the indents and italics. They really screwed up the flow of the poem.

Interesting idea, and rather deep and insightful, if you ask me.

They rhythym is a bit ackward, but if you fixed that up a little, this could be an awesome peice, good enough to rival the best poets.

_Pros




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Mon Jul 09, 2007 3:12 pm
Cameron says...



Is the poem better without the 5th stanza?

the mountain towers unrelentingly past all man’s earthly claims.
we are dying; becoming rocklike, stonily indifferent to the mountain’s trial.
our minds are already hovering at the peak, our sanity shattered on the rocks below.




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Mon Jul 09, 2007 8:15 am
Jasmine Hart wrote a review...



This was great, I really loved it. I'd capitalise the first letter of each stanza, but I think this is a personal preference.Your imagery is excellent. However, I think that stanza one is in need of another look. If I was to literally translate this verse, I would have to say that it was saying to "step lightly" across the path, the trees, the travellers, and the tavern, which obviously is not what you intended to get across.Maybe try:

"Step lightly across the stony path. The crooked trees
cannot live in such light air.Us weathered travellers walk
enshrined in myth, as the tavern whispers of those who say
They touched the mountain's groaning heart."

Hmmm...not sure that's right either. But I think to keep it as a sort of in-the -moment description, you'd need to get rid of the command at the beginning.
The next stanza is very good, but I'd omit "piles of" for the sake of rhythm, and the one after that is excellent. The final stanza is perfect in its own right, but I think that in relation to the rest of the verses its a bit too long. I felt it kind of broke the flow a bit, but it was so beautiful that I'm reluctant to start thinking of how the meter could be improoved. I really think that should be looked at though, and I'm sorry I can't be more helpful on this point. Hope this helps.





A person is a fool to become a writer. His only compensation is absolute freedom. He has no master except his own soul, and that, I am sure, is why he does it.
— Roald Dahl