Fear of Falling edit0.1billy, ella

[tectak]

Each day is the end of a unique journey
begun as a 'kerchief, tear soaked, hits the ground.
Not for us the crack of the starting pistol
or tumultuous baying of craning-necked crowds.
We are born with the screams of creature creation
ringing out plaintively, plangently loud.

The race never stirs us, nor prods us to triumph;
for all that we ask is the chase must go on.
Through anguish and hopelessness, pain and derision,
or victory, glory, high office and wealth,
the route that we travel leads all to that wisdom
sufficient to take us as far as it can.

We measure our lives in the counting of hours
as though marks on the clock-face meant more than time.
Our milestones, our mountains, our barriers broken
we leave far behind as the route writhes and reels.
No scratches on tombstones describe what a life means
but clearly and coldly say, “ He took this long.”

Each day ends the race that we all try to loose;
hoping that seconds will ever extend.
Some look to explain our preposterous progress
that at once is quintessence and yet our set end.
Walk slowly, my friends, on the edge of existence;
falling is final, ‘cept to ask….is that all?

tectak
July 2014-07-24

[billy]

while it doesn't read bad tom, i honestly couldn't get into it and without the epilogue i wouldn't have guessed what it was about or who.
i thing kerchief if use as a metaphor for the plane etc doesn't jive (if that's what the hanky represented). wish i could be more in depth with my feedback.
thanks for the read.

[tectak]

while it doesn't read bad tom, i honestly couldn't get into it and without the epilogue i wouldn't have guessed what it was about or who.
i thing kerchief if use as a metaphor for the plane etc doesn't jive (if that's what the hanky represented). wish i could be more in depth with my feedback.
thanks for the read.

Hi billy,
no...it's not you.
The poem was written as a commentary on how we measure our lives by time instead of content. The dropped kerchief reference is way too obscure but it was and is a common prop at birth where the father cries with joy as his child is presented to him...he takes the infant and drops the (hand)kerchief. The race has begun.
The MH17 reference just enforced the thinking. Coincidentally (or not), I wrote this DURING a newsdoc on the MH17 disaster and so it DID colour my thinking. The sadness and madness of curtailment of life....or "cutting short" in common parlance, made me reflect more than somewhat on the statistical dead. "Beloved father", "Much missed Son" says so little of the incredible grief that we often fail to read in to epitaphs. Those we don't know warrant little more than " Hmmm, he lived to good age", or " How sad to die so young"...I have even subtracted birth year from death year when age is not given....how salient is that?
As you know, I don't do obscure except to make wicked points so I may need to drop the MH17 reference if it takes you the wrong way. Dropped handkerchief? Jury is out...just one more crit
Best and thanks,
tectak

[ellajam]

I took the dropped kerchief as a subtle start to a love affair, which worked for me through S1 and S2 then was lost into life's tough and then we die. So I guess it didn't work the way it was intended for me.

[billy]

i think i would have got much more from the poem without the flight reference, unlike ella, i saw the dropped hanky as the end of an affair. but obviously the rest o the poem would dictate what it were had i not been tainted by mh17

[tectak]

i think i would have got much more from the poem without the flight reference, unlike ella, i saw the dropped hanky as the end of an affair. but obviously the rest o the poem would dictate what it were had i not been tainted by mh17

Yes to you both. Changes are needed. I will, though, without aforethough, edit out the MH17 ref.
Thank you both for bringing me down to earth!
Best,
tectak

[Truerenigma]

Each day is the end of a unique journey
begun as a 'kerchief, tear soaked, hits the ground.
Not for us the crack of the starting pistol
or tumultuous baying of craning-necked crowds.
We are born with the screams of creature creation
ringing out plaintively, plangently loud.

The race never stirs us, nor prods us to triumph;
for all that we ask is the chase must go on.
Through anguish and hopelessness, pain and derision,
or victory, glory, high office and wealth,
the route that we travel leads all to that wisdom
sufficient to take us as far as it can.

We measure our lives in the counting of hours
as though marks on the clock-face meant more than time.
Our milestones, our mountains, our barriers broken
we leave far behind as the route writhes and reels.
No scratches on tombstones describe what a life means
but clearly and coldly say, “ He took this long.”

Each day ends the race that we all try to loose;
hoping that seconds will ever extend.
Some look to explain our preposterous progress
that at once is quintessence and yet our set end.
Walk slowly, my friends, on the edge of existence;
falling is final, ‘cept to ask….is that all?

tectak
July 2014-07-24

Tec,

This is a good poem. I like it. But it has some big problems. I follow the hanky deal. The race bit when it makes it commonplace overdone entrance (I've grown sick of saying "trite") in S2 is just not that interesting. I don't mean because I don't like the metaphor. I do. But it's very plain in its initial presentation. I don't mean plain as in clear; I mean plain as in nothing fresh, no new language, nothing aural of merit, no imagery, and no new ideas brought into it.

S3 get's a little better; there is a hole in your theory--scientific evidence shows that we actually measure /time itself/ by sensory input and other content--but that's okay; it's a poem and I see the emotional relevance, the abstract truth, behind it.

The scratched tombstone and the new perspective is wonderful to read - a great new way to process a complex emotion.

The new look on the race "we all try to lose" is nice too - the question at the end is a very good one.

Thanks for the read.

[Erthona]

Tom,

Isn't "plaintively and plangently" a bit redundant?

Def of plangently:resounding loudly, especially with a "plaintive" sound, as a bell.

Although you use a fair amount of alliteration, the only one that bothered me was "preposterous progress", aside from this one, the others hide nicely in the poem.

Most of the poem does quite well, but your first two lines bother me.

"Each day is the end of a unique journey
begun as a 'kerchief, tear soaked, hits the ground."

This is what it seems to be saying to me.

a unique journey begun as a tear soaked kerchief hits the ground.

which is I guess is a metaphor for the world is full of bunch timid wienies, the opposite of those who pursue excellence. A kind of Prufrockian anti-hero. Still, I don't get the odd syntax, is that there to maintain the iambic foot?

Then the segment about time, also somewhat reminiscent of Prufrock,

"Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions"

I really liked these lines

"No scratches on tombstones describe what a life means
but clearly and coldly say, “ He took this long.”"

I'm wondering if the question posed in the last line is needed.

"Walk slowly, my friends, on the edge of existence;
falling is final, ‘cept to ask….is that all?"

I'm intrigued, when does one have the chance to say "is that all?"


I find this a mixed bag, half has been stated and restated many times, yet these is a freshness in parts, like the tombstone line.

Dale

[tectak]

Tom,

Isn't "plaintively and plangently" a bit redundant?

Def of plangently:resounding loudly, especially with a "plaintive" sound, as a bell.

Although you use a fair amount of alliteration, the only one that bothered me was "preposterous progress", aside from this one, the others hide nicely in the poem.

Most of the poem does quite well, but your first two lines bother me.

"Each day is the end of a unique journey
begun as a 'kerchief, tear soaked, hits the ground."

This is what it seems to be saying to me.

a unique journey begun as a tear soaked kerchief hits the ground.

which is I guess is a metaphor for the world is full of bunch timid wienies, the opposite of those who pursue excellence. A kind of Prufrockian anti-hero. Still, I don't get the odd syntax, is that there to maintain the iambic foot?

Then the segment about time, also somewhat reminiscent of Prufrock,

"Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions"

I really liked these lines

"No scratches on tombstones describe what a life means
but clearly and coldly say, “ He took this long.”"

I'm wondering if the question posed in the last line is needed.

"Walk slowly, my friends, on the edge of existence;
falling is final, ‘cept to ask….is that all?"

I'm intrigued, when does one have the chance to say "is that all?" On the way down. See my reply


I find this a mixed bag, half has been stated and restated many times, yet these is a freshness in parts, like the tombstone line.

Dale

Hi dale,
many thanks for this...sadly, you have encouraged me to work on it further
Conceptually, and that is all, I was going for observed dichotomy...but I was watching the horror story of MH17 at the time and it got in. What dichotomy? It didn't work, obviously. Simply this. We have the anti-abortionists, the liberalists, the dignified death die-hards, the postumous war heroes, the bombed babies, centenarian senility...well, you know, the full whack of lives long and lives short. But note. Apart from the functionality of a semi-permanent stone tome we record nothing of life "value" in terms of "Was it worth it...enter a number up to 10"...all we see is "how long was it?" No pun or innuendo
I can see the piece needs more meat. I guess I tried too hard to concatenate. Your comments will help create a framework.
Best,
tectak
Oh, that "final"question, yes, it was the vestigial MH17 influence. It is not a good idea.