[John Riley]

I know some do not care for prose poems. That's cool. I am working on putting together a manuscript of my prose poems. This is a new one and I'd like any feedback. Thanks.

Among The Gods

Sailing away from the land, away from the rocks and cliffs and live oaks bursting through the Spanish moss, the wind driving us on to the lusting gods, stare at the approaching waves with no regret or teeming anguish, no looking back, turn to the bow, sail away from the retreating land, soon to disembark full of pride. There hide from the gods and their endless clawing and cawing, screaming and scheming, their red eyes firing, messengers sent away clinging to harps and flutes. The gods still depend on the voice, mouth to ear, no printed words, and the lull of music, notes planted deep in valleys and hills of home. Ask no questions until you are alone behind the thick twilight as the spring dogwoods whisper blooms onto the forest floor. Sweep the jaybirds from the gardens, ignore the peacocks and padres whose amorous gaze makes you shudder, hoarding the intoxication of their beauty, demonically beautiful but no different than a sprout refusing to drive through soil.



In the mind of Time

[W T Clark]

It's wonder-full. What if you made it from the opening sentence in the imperative? I feel I may have read it before. Wonder-full. It's the specificity of "spanish moss" that makes this into a vision, instead of simply an image. I owe you a lot of words. Give me a fortnight: life is chaotic atm. I would rather read a dozen of these than ... I think I should stop there.

[John Boddie]

Consider the length and structure of the sentences in this and consider also the driving pace of the narrative. Do the sentence structure and narrative pace reinforce each other?

JB

[Glenn Wright]

I am completely stumped by “padres.” What am I supposed to be visualizing? Peacocks are showy and padres (priests) dress plainly, so are you warning your companion to ignore both extremes?

[John Riley]

Thanks for the feedback.

I’m pleased you like it Cam. It is partly taken from an old poem I may have posted. I imagine it’s exam time?

John, I’ll think about it. Cam mentioned beginning with an imperative. That would have more force.

Glenn, thanks for reading. This isn’t a poem that needs to understood completely. It hopefully is happening before your eyes. Why the “padre” in a poem about the crazy gods is something to acknowledge, so thank you.

[John Riley]

I made a small twitch to the opening sentence. I hope it makes it stronger.

[mignon ledgard]

John,

Line breaks brought out musicality and the page looked like waves of words. I did this to ease the reading for my ailing eyes. It is not a suggestion.

Articles ‘the’ I counted seventeen — over half of them could be dropped.

There [,] hide from the gods >> add comma, maybe not..

Drop the ing from ‘clinging’ to better distinguish from and contrast against those preceding. Add a verb to make the clause stronger — maybe:

‘There, hidden from the gods and their perpetual clawing and cawing, screaming and scheming, their red eyes firing, dismissed messengers cling to harps and flutes.’

Sorry for the truncated attempt. I didn't see.. May learn some day.

Good luck on your project,
~mignon

[David Callin]

The whole thing is strikingly expressed, John, but this is my favourite sentence: "There hide from the gods and their endless clawing and cawing, screaming and scheming, their red eyes firing, messengers sent away clinging to harps and flutes."

That has the strength of nightmare and myth when I read it.

Interesting that you should reference the sprout in your final line. I'm still thinking about that.

Cheers

David

[Jim Moonan]

.
It is rapture-like, though it fall short of being rapturous, which is why I like it. Something is coming.

Last night after I read it for the first time I wrote: No doubt due largely to my most recent dive into Ginsberg's poetry, this poem, aided by its prose format, has a similar rush of language and imagery, as if being seen speeding by out a car window. Ginsberg's poetry always seems to be on the trail to transcendence but never fails to affect me with its brokenness. In a strange way, Ginsberg was an impotent poet in my eyes. It never gave me hope. It's only message to me was despair in a material/capitalist society. His poetry leaves me cold and stunned. I always come back for more.

Your poem feels like it's tracking the same state of transcendence. I love the rhythm established by the commas. I especially like the confluence of images that Cameron mentions that become a vision. I like the Ginsbergian rush of language that struggles to keep up with thought. I'll come back.


.

[Matt Q]

Hi John,

I like this one at lot. I really enjoy the inventiveness of the description, and how it's slightly over-the-top in the best way. It sweeps me up and carries me along.

I see where Cameron's coming from on the first sentence. There's something a little odd about the join between the first and second. The switch from passive-voiced fragment to the imperative second sentence. It occurs to me, though, that rather than changing the first sentence to the imperative that you could change the full stop after "lusting gods" to a comma, and the resulting longer first sentence is then in the imperative (and a complete sentence). It seems like that's what intended meaningwise anyway. I read it as "(while) sailing away ... stare at the approaching waves".

In the mind of Time, sailing away from the land, away from the rocks and cliffs and live oaks bursting through the Spanish moss, the wind driving us on to the lusting gods, stare at the approaching waves with no regret or teeming anguish, no looking back, turn to the bow, sail away from the retreating land, soon to disembark full of pride.

I think like this it has more momentum, more drive (not sure I'm finding the right words). I like it more as one long sentence anyway.

best,

Matt