20·May·2007 · "Arguments with Fate" · champagne1982

[Angeline]

Arguments With Fate

So what of this rage that I
rail and rant into the empty
hours here, in the dark and lonely
nights, when fair is but another
word with meaning, not applied
to women who haven't lived enough,
cried enough or laughed sufficient
tears to bathe a babe unborn
or mourn a parent, too young to pass?

What of a love still waiting
for its time to blossom and grow
amongst the first, warm days
of infatuated touchings and eager
kisses? Those never felt on lips;
aquiver, with glistening lashes
closed over eyes, bright with tears,
prepared, to shed in grief and regret,
that rage which blots out moments
I could choose to smile with you?

There is no dignity in waiting on time
to either knock or cease to press
opportunity to live a different path.
No power in obeisance to a master
who holds the hour I might spend
in struggle or in joy. Give it back
to me and I will determine all the good
or evil that this life will wright.

I'm submitting this poem in hopes that I'll get some help making this better. The second strophe is giving me some "flow" problems, any suggestions as to how I can get it smoother or less rushed would be appreciated. Thanks in advance, poets. Have at 'er.

 

[TheRainMan]

Arguments With Fate

So what of this rage that I
rail and rant into the empty
hours here, in the dark and lonely
nights, when fair is but another
word with meaning, not applied
to women who haven't lived enough,
cried enough or laughed sufficient
tears to bathe a babe unborn
or mourn a parent, too young to pass?

What of a love still waiting
for its time to blossom and grow
amongst the first, warm days
of infatuated touchings and eager
kisses? Those never felt on lips;
aquiver, with glistening lashes
closed over eyes, bright with tears,
prepared, to shed in grief and regret,
that rage which blots out moments
I could choose to smile with you?

There is no dignity in waiting on time
to either knock or cease to press
opportunity to live a different path.
No power in obeisance to a master
who holds the hour I might spend
in struggle or in joy. Give it back
to me and I will determine all the good
or evil that this life will wright.

I'm submitting this poem in hopes that I'll get some help making this better. The second strophe is giving me some "flow" problems, any suggestions as to how I can get it smoother or less rushed would be appreciated. Thanks in advance, poets. Have at 'er.

hi Carrie,

i have insufficient time to do the entire poem, but here are my thoughts --


first thing to do, I think, is too eliminate the unnecessary. that's the first thing I always do with a serious rewrite, under the theory that “anything that does not add, subtracts.”

if this were mine, here is the thought process:

1st strophe:


line 2 – “rail and rant” are superfluous, already there in the word “rage”

line 3 – “here” is not needed

line 3 – “dark and lonely” are clutter, unnecessary adjectives that can be implied by the remaining text.

lines 6 thru 9 -- too thick and wordy for what they say.

all lines – improve word choice where possible.

then, all that is left in the first strophe are the linebreaks, to “punch” the proper words and reinforce meaning, etc. – here’s my first try with what’s left:


So what of this rage into the empty
hours of night, where fair
is just another word
without meaning to a woman like me,
unacquainted with life’s odd injustice.


i'd do the same with strophes 2 and 3, before i even dealt with the poem as one entity. at that point, it would most likely need more refinement, additions, improved image, rewording for the coherency of the whole, etc.

 

[Angeline]

Overall, I agree with Pat that you can pull a fair amount of unnecessary language out of this and have a stronger piece that is faithful to the theme. When I read it I thought of that poem (is it Shakespeare, Andrew Marvell, I can't recall) that ends "then come kiss me sweet and twenty/youth's a stuff will not endure"). Similar theme, but from a woman's perspective.

Arguments with Fate

So what of this rage that I
rail and rant into the empty
hours here, in the dark and lonely
nights, when fair is but another
word with meaning, not applied
to women who haven't lived enough,
cried enough or laughed sufficient
tears to bathe a babe unborn
or mourn a parent, too young to pass?

Strophe 1

line 1--how about losing "So" and beginning with "What"? "So what" makes me think of something my mother would say, probably my issue lol

line 3--another vote to say something other than "dark and lonely," maybe a metaphor instead? or something more metaphorical like "mirrorless"

lines 4-6--seem awkward, esp. "but another word with meaning, not applied." You could say "when fair is just another word for women. . ."

line 7--we don't laugh tears, we may cry from laughter, so maybe "laughed enough or cried sufficient"

line 9--"or mourn a parent too young lost" to match the preceding line?

What of a love still waiting
for its time to blossom and grow
amongst the first, warm days
of infatuated touchings and eager
kisses? Those never felt on lips;
aquiver, with glistening lashes
closed over eyes, bright with tears,
prepared, to shed in grief and regret,
that rage which blots out moments
I could choose to smile with you?

Strophe 2

lines 1-2--since waiting assumes time, how about "What of love still waiting to blossom and grow. . ."

lines 4-5--I wouldn't break "eager" from "kisses" b/c you don't gain anything by breaking at "eager" and it's an awkward pause. "Those never felt on lips" also needs recasting, stated more metaphorically

lines 6-10--I really like these images and line 10 is a great way to end the strophe. You could lose a few extra words here though (at least one "with"); no comma after "prepared," and maybe lose the "and" from "grief and regret" ("grief, regret")

There is no dignity in waiting on time
to either knock or cease to press
opportunity to live a different path.
No power in obeisance to a master
who holds the hour I might spend
in struggle or in joy. Give it back
to me and I will determine all the good
or evil that this life will wright.

Strophe 3

line 1--again "waiting" and "on time" seems like overkill to me. I like just waiting"

line 2--"to live a different path" doesn't work for me; maybe "walk" or "choose"

lines 4-5-- "to master/who holds hours I might . . ."

lines 7-8-- maybe it's me but I think this would balance better as "I'll determine" and "all the good or evil" seems too prosaic, though I like "wright." I think it's a cool way to end but I bet you get flak about it.

You have a formal voice in this poem. Some people would argue against that because it's not in vogue now. I'm not one of them, but if you stay will it you may not want to use the contraction I suggested.

Thanks again for posting it and keeping this subforum alive.

 

[darkerdreamer]

What of a love still waiting
for its time to blossom and grow
amongst the first, warm days
of infatuated touchings and eager
kisses? Those never felt on lips;
aquiver, with glistening lashes
closed over eyes, bright with tears,
prepared, to shed in grief and regret,
that rage which blots out moments
I could choose to smile with you?

Strophe 2

lines 1-2--since waiting assumes time, how about "What of love still waiting to blossom and grow. . ."

lines 4-5--I wouldn't break "eager" from "kisses" b/c you don't gain anything by breaking at "eager" and it's an awkward pause. "Those never felt on lips" also needs recasting, stated more metaphorically

In agreement with most comments already stated, I'll just delve into my take of the second strophe as that was your main concern.

As Angeline stated, "Those never felt on lips" could be rethought in metaphor. You have already started something in this to the idea of flowers or buds blossoming, I feel you could take that throughout this entire strophe to a great effect. (An initial thought, lips could easily be petals, maintaining both ideas.) This could be done with word replacements, but I don't think that would aid your flow issues. However, I do think a lot of the lines are worth saving.

Purely structurally, with no thought to metaphor, here would be my idea of a flow-rewrite (stealing some previously mentioned ideas and using a few of my own.)

What of a love still waiting to blossom and grow (ln. 1 and 2 combined)
amongst the first warm days (dropped comma)
of infatuated touchings and eager kisses? (could be replaced with a single idea to read easier)
Those never felt on lips;
aquiver, with glistening lashes
closed over eyes, bright with tears, (bright with tears could be combined with the next line)
prepared to shed in grief and regret, (dropped comma, can work as one idea)
that rage which blots out moments
I could choose to smile with you?

Obviously, my ideas are a lot more minimalist than most, and this piece could be sheared even beyond that imo. However, you've set a formal tone (as already mentioned) that seems to echo some of the classics, and I certainly wouldn't wish the piece to lose that just for ease of reading. (I mean, come on... how many classic poems roll off the tongue?)

 

[colddiesel]

Precis etc.

This comment is restricted to 2nd strophe which in particular seems to lack rythmn.

Suggest a comma after "time" in 2nd line.

"infatuated" could be omitted without losing meaning and it is a rather clumsy word in a ryhthmic sense.

; aquiver, doesn't quite work though I'm stumped for an alternative.

If eyes are "closed" how can they be "bright with tears" .Omit "closed" perhaps?

Could "prepared to" also be omitted.

 

[Tzara]

OK. Keep in mind that I am still recovering from having a wisdom tooth pulled, so I am missing some wisdom, am cranky from the pain, and a little loopy from the Vicodin.

I think the general theme comes through well, though I find the poem a little too abstract in its language for my liking. However, since it is couched as a kind of philosophic musing, that isn't as bad as if it was a poem focused on a more concrete theme. I would consider changing the title, though. I see not so much this as being "arguments" with Fate as complaints to Fate or frustration with Fate. Argument implies dialogue and these read more like rhetorical questions.

Since others have focused on the first and second strophes, I'll comment on the third, which I think is the best, as it is more than just questions--the narrative moves forward here (which it should, of course, as you are summing up the poem).

I think the language is a little confused, though. "There is no dignity in waiting on time / to either knock or cease to press / opportunity to live a different path" seems syntactically tortured to me. They way it is written, the narrator is "waiting on time / to ... knock" which doesn't make sense. Waiting for opportunity to knock? Waiting for time to present an opportunity? "No power in obeisance to a master / who holds the hour I might spend / in struggle or in joy" is not a sentence (unless one assumes an implied "there is" at the start), and seems rather to want to be a clause attached to the end of the previous sentence. The meaning seems murky as well--"power" doesn't seem to be the right word to me. Something like "gain" or "advantage" I think is what is meant, though those don't sound well. I find "holds the hour" a kind of an odd phrase, as if the "master" (Fate, presumably) is withholding time, not opportunity. Again, that doesn't make a lot of sense to me. Is the narrator in a kind of timeless limbo?

The last line "Give it back / to me and I will determine all the good / or evil that this life will wright" could use some tightening. "it" seems vague (Give what back? Time? Opportunity? Control?) and I might change "all the good / or evil" to something like "what good / or evil".

"[W]right" is an interesting choice, though I think a wrong one. If I understand the intent, it is meant to be used as if it is a present tense form of wrought, which it is not. It's a noun, at least in my dictionaries. It also is trying to do the work of the much weaker verb "will [determine]". I'd change the sentence around to make something like "wrought" ("forge", perhaps?) the verb.

Feel free, of course, to consider all of the above nonsense. It's how I read the poem, but we all read things differently.

 

[champagne1982]

Well, some background on this poem is needed I think. I wrote it just when I was waiting for my heart surgery (which had been cancelled 3 freakin' times). So I was a little emotional; demanding that fate find another victim and stop bullying me.

Thanks for the insight and taking the time to give me meaningful direction everyone. Pat, Ange, 2D, colddiesel and Tee-zed... wow, quite a fine handful of poets. This is an edit where I've tried to incorporate many of the suggestions you've been kind enough to offer.
I'm keeping the title though. I'm thinking of a legal argument in the sense of a debate where I'm rebutting the point brought to me by fate.

Arguments With Fate

What of this rage into the empty
night when fair seems a meaningless
word to women who haven't wept
sufficient tears to mourn
a love too young to pass?

What of this love, these first
infatuated kisses; my eyes filled
with regretful tears that wash
away hours spent in fruitless bloom?

There is no dignity in waiting for fate
to either knock or cease to offer
opportunity; no power in obeisance
to an unkind master who owns the hour
I might spend in struggle or in joy.

Give time back to me and I will
decide how fine my life is wrought.

 

[hmmnmm]

Arguments With Fate

So what of this rage that I
rail and rant into the empty
hours here, in the dark and lonely
nights, when fair is but another
word with meaning, not applied
to women who haven't lived enough,
cried enough or laughed sufficient
tears to bathe a babe unborn
or mourn a parent, too young to pass?

What of a love still waiting
for its time to blossom and grow
amongst the first, warm days
of infatuated touchings and eager
kisses? Those never felt on lips;
aquiver, with glistening lashes
closed over eyes, bright with tears,
prepared, to shed in grief and regret,
that rage which blots out moments
I could choose to smile with you?

There is no dignity in waiting on time
to either knock or cease to press
opportunity to live a different path.
No power in obeisance to a master
who holds the hour I might spend
in struggle or in joy. Give it back
to me and I will determine all the good
or evil that this life will wright.[/I]

I'm submitting this poem in hopes that I'll get some help making this better. The second strophe is giving me some "flow" problems, any suggestions as to how I can get it smoother or less rushed would be appreciated. Thanks in advance, poets. Have at 'er.

It is not hard to fathom that by the time you read these words, your work will be improved to a place that pleases. However, the time is nigh to attempt some sort of review or critique. The unexpected difficulty in this was to avoid eye contact with the other replies, especially the last one, when I had to force my eyes to turn away.

Y'know, the tough stuff here is that at any given moment in the reader's life, depending on their mood, the time of day, the weather outside, and so on... one set of words that caused slight catches in their souls or beings or minds on any given stretch of moments, may be the most beautiful at another. It's the same with music.

When I first looked at this yesterday (and I admit, I did read one opening line from another critic who mentioned something about reducing the words so as to more expediently get the message across)... the first thing that caught my eye was the "dark and lonely nights" and had I written this then, I would suggest cutting it. Same with "into the empty hours here". Some sort of rearranging or rewording. Similar with the "lived enough...cried enough...sufficient" though I couldn't tell you why it may bug me ever slightly yesterday.
But you know? This morning, the heavy rain outside, little chilly inside, just peeling my eyes open, and in this situation, the poem works for me just as it is, as you originally wrote it (or shall I say the first strophe [shall I confess that I wasn't exactly sure what a strophe is, but I think I know now])
Also, yesterday I would have said something about the first line of the second strophe, though again unable to tell you exactly why or what to do about it. Maybe something like a love that yet waits

Wait a minute: rage which blots out moments
Leave that line alone! It's beautiful. You change this, I shall march in protest.
But if we must return to more nitpicking, maybe look again at "those never" and "with glistening" Glistening is such a good word, it's almost too sure-fire. Many times I've used it or if I didn't use it I wanted to use it when I thought of it. I like what the word says and does. If it's an overused word or an easy way out, then I'll stand with you and accept the guilty verdict - and do the Poet's Time if there is any. Your call.

And finally, if I were far less liberal in handing out critique than I am at heart, I'd put a tentative circle around the first three lines of the third. Over in the margins of the paper I may say, "this is fine but how about letting it sit and simmer another day, maybe new arrangements will bubble up. If not, then it's really fine the way it is."

And then, picking up with No power in obeisance to a master to the end, I'd pretty much leave it be. Obeisance - that's sort of opposite of Glistening, in the sense that its one of those words that you don't see used much.

Well, that oughta do it.
Life in general is tough enough, we should expect it. Art being life, it is no surprise that the making of any art should carry degrees and aspects of correspondent difficulties. And to dare offer criticism of another's art... ooh, that's a doozy.

But there it is, for what it is.

 

[naamplao]

Well, some background on this poem is needed I think. I wrote it just when I was waiting for my heart surgery (which had been cancelled 3 freakin' times). So I was a little emotional; demanding that fate find another victim and stop bullying me.

Well first of all, let me offer sympathies regarding your plight. I had similar frustrations 10 years ago when I had 3 major surgeries within a 18 month period. Writing poetry helped me through those times...so I understand the need to put emotion on paper at times like these.

Arguments With Fate

What of this rage into the empty
night when fair seems a meaningless
word to women who haven't wept
sufficient tears to mourn
a love too young to pass?

What of this love, these first
infatuated kisses; my eyes filled
with regretful tears that wash
away hours spent in fruitless bloom?

There is no dignity in waiting for fate
to either knock or cease to offer
opportunity; no power in obeisance
to an unkind master who owns the hour
I might spend in struggle or in joy.

Give time back to me and I will
decide how fine my life is wrought.

I have a little problem the last line. I like the word "wrought" which is a past tense/participle of "worked", as in forming something. I guess it is the use of the word "fine" that is confusing to me.

It seems you are asking for time to be given back to you so that you can make other decisions that hopefully would lead to a better result when this point of time is reached again. That is the impression I get reading this but I am not sure "fine" helps here in achieving that idea. I think it is because "fine" has so many meanings and it is not clear which one is being used here.

Fine can mean well, excellent, bright, satisfactory, subtle, delicate, penalty...

Of these I think, well, excellent, subtle or delicate could apply but they seem insufficient and at this point I cannot offer a substitute.

As far as your stripped down version of the poem, I think you pared away too much. I agree with others that the first version was on the wordy side but I think this version has lost a lot of imagery which belongs there. The first verse(in both versions) seems like a run-on sentence to me. There are two thoughts there...I think a full stop is needed in the middle somewhere...

 

[champagne1982]

Golly, from fat to skeletal in one easy step. Now, I hope fitness lies on this level here.

What of this rage that rails
into the shaded hours of night:
a rant of unfair denial
by a soul who hasn't cried
tears to bathe a babe, unborn
or mourn a parent's departure?

What of love still waiting
to blossom in a bed of infatuated
touch; and eager lips to unfurl
petals with kisses not yet given?

What comes of these eyes that close
behind glistening lashes, wet
with tears prepared to shed in grief;
that, instead, fall in dismayed regret
at rage which blots out brighter moments?

There is no dignity in waiting
for a knock or footsteps passage
on the walk beyond this place;

no power in obeisance to a master
who holds the hour I might spend
in struggle or in joy. Cruel fate,
give time back to me and I will choose
what good or evil I shall wrought.

Thanks for your ideas and help Tihmmnmm and naamplao. This is really quite a process and I'm glad to be going through it.

 

[hmmnmm]

Golly, from fat to skeletal in one easy step. Now, I hope fitness lies on this level here.

What of this rage that rails
into the shaded hours of night:
a rant of unfair denial
by a soul who hasn't cried
tears to bathe a babe, unborn
or mourn a parent's departure?

What of love still waiting
to blossom in a bed of infatuated
touch; and eager lips to unfurl
petals with kisses not yet given?

What comes of these eyes that close
behind glistening lashes, wet
with tears prepared to shed in grief;
that, instead, fall in dismayed regret
at rage which blots out brighter moments?

There is no dignity in waiting
for a knock or footsteps passage
on the walk beyond this place;

no power in obeisance to a master
who holds the hour I might spend
in struggle or in joy. Cruel fate,
give time back to me and I will choose
what good or evil I shall wrought.

And What a transformation!
Feels like something reincarnated from the 17th century or 18th.
Like a classic tragedy lamentation.

 

[naamplao]

Golly, from fat to skeletal in one easy step. Now, I hope fitness lies on this level here.

Hehehehehe...we are shooting at a moving target!

I think you have bulked it up to middle ground. There are several sections that I liked...

to women who haven't wept
sufficient tears to mourn
a love too young to pass?

I liked this very much. It lends itself to many interpretations for the reader which includes the loss of a parent...without grounding it there. I might change it to singular though.

to a woman who hasn't wept
sufficient tears to mourn
a love too young to pass?

-------------------

What of love still waiting
to blossom in a bed of infatuated
touch; and eager lips to unfurl
petals with kisses not yet given?

I like the images here as well. I would make one small change though. Instead of "eager lips", I would reverse the order to "lips eager"

What of love still waiting
to blossom in a bed of infatuated
touch; and lips eager to unfurl
petals with kisses not yet given?

I think that flows better....

-------------------

This is quite moving for me

What comes of these eyes that close
behind glistening lashes, wet
with tears prepared to shed in grief;
that, instead, fall in dismayed regret
at rage which blots out brighter moments?

-------------------

I like the following

There is no dignity in waiting for fate
to either knock or cease to offer
opportunity;

much better than

There is no dignity in waiting
for a knock or footsteps passage
on the walk beyond this place;

-------------------

In the last few lines I think the word "choose" is weak. Perhaps "reassess" might work better.

Cruel fate,
give time back to me and I will reassess
what good or evil I shall wrought.

Those are my thoughts anyway.......

 

[champagne1982]

Arguments With Fate

What of this rage that rails
into the shaded hours of night:
a rant of unfair denial by a soul

who hasn't cried sufficient
tears to bathe a babe, unborn
or mourn a love too young to pass?

What of love still waiting
to blossom in a bed of infatuated
touch; and lips, willing petals
to unfurl with kisses not yet given?

What comes of these eyes that close
behind glistening lashes, wet
with tears prepared to shed in grief;
that, instead, fall in dismayed regret
at rage which blots out brighter moments?

There is no dignity in waiting
for fate to knock or deny
a different opportunity;

no power in obeisance to a master
who holds the hour I might spend
in struggle or in joy.

Cruel fate, give time
back to me and I will determine
what good or evil I shall wrought.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Arguments With Fate

What of this rage that rails
into the shaded hours of night:
a rant of unfair denial by a soul (I feel "unjust" flows more smoothly)
who hasn't cried sufficient
tears to bathe a babe, unborn (bathing an unborn babe?)
or mourn a love too young to pass?

What of love still waiting
to blossom in a bed of infatuated ("infatuated touch" seems a bit contrived)
touch; and lips, willing petals
to unfurl with kisses not yet given?

What comes of these eyes that close
behind glistening lashes, wet
with tears prepared to shed in grief; (to be shed)
that, instead, fall in dismayed regret (thst fall instead in....)
at rage which blots out brighter moments? (blots is so ugly - obscures?)

There is no dignity in waiting
for fate to knock or deny
a different opportunity;

no power in obeisance to a master
who holds the hour I might spend
in struggle or in joy.

Cruel fate, give time
back to me and I will determine
what good or evil I shall wrought. (I shall have wrought)

This is a passionate poem that loses the passion on its way to the end. I'm not sure why and I think many of the things I suggest might be a language thing. Anyhow - just a few thoughts. Well done, Carrie, you convey emotional poetry the way I wish I could.

 

[twelveoone]

line 2 – “rail and rant” are superfluous, already there in the word “rage”

Consider the sound, the rrr of anger, of rage. The growl of non acceptance, not that I like rail and rant much.

"no power in obeisance to a master"

I like the sound of this, the sound of a snake about to strike, I read MAS ter as if the fangs have struck.

On another note, this is a damn good interaction, well worth the visit. Thanks.

Poetry is all about possibilities, choices, views of the readers. Nothing else to say, Good luck with it Champ.

 

[Tathagata]

So what of this rage ?
I rail and rant into empty
hours here , abysmal
nights, when fair is but another
word with meaning, not applied
to women who have neither lived nor
cried enough ,
haven't laughed sufficient
tears to bathe a babe unborn
or mourn a parent, too young to pass?


On my way out but i agree with some of the others, some unneeded words here and there. this is how I'd handle the first verse, though " have neither lived" now seems a bit awkward to me LOL