Poem: Rage-less Rhyme

[Corrusader]

Another poem from me. This one doesn't fit with the holiday season at all. I wish it's still exams (kidding) as the feeling would resemble those described in the poem more. This one is dark and depressing.... rather consistant with the poll results.

This is a sonnet. I didn't follow the accent rules too closely tho. Please comment and tell me what you think, it is what inspires me.


Rage-less Rhyme

In a storm of hurt, dare I stand alone?
Laughter ignored me, the light betrayed me.
Down poured endless hate, chilly like tombstone;
Friendless I can't breath, so cold I can't be.

When all my courage is from me taken,
A lustful blade into virgin flesh tore.
My sickened mind had my body broken;
But where the pain is dark pleasure would roar.

Again I'm warm yet somehow I shiver,
Can safety be bought by burning my life?
Down my arm my blood trickled a river,
The fearless answer given by my knife.

Please don't try to help, please don't rob my sword.
It's what keeps me alive, will of my lord.

[Advent Childhe]

Greetings:

One again... I'm late. I have not much time. I'll comment more later.

Sonnet form, is more then just a particular structure and rhyming couplets. Sonnets are love poetry. there are two types: English Romantic, and Italian. The one that is more popular, English Romantic, usually uses contained lines and incorporates a turn in the situation. The use of the sonnet form is therefore misleading and/or incorrect.

Poetic liscence allows the poet to ignore most of the rules of grammar, and possibly, even syntax. However, the juxopposition of some of the parts of phrases in the piece obstructs the flow of the poem. Sonnects are flowing lyrics - if readers need to go over the stanza again to peice the meaning of the sentence together then the purpose of the flowing lyric would have been destroyed.

Sentence fragments are an unessessary evil in poetry. Many use it to great effect. This piece, however, could do with a bit less of sentence fragments. For reasons, see above for flow of reading.

I'm late,

Yours, always,
Wayward,

[Corrusader]

I actually didn't know that sonnet is supposed to be love poems after I am done with the piece, and before posting it, I looked up "sonnet" at dictionary.com.

Not wanting to rewrite (give up on) the piece, I told myself "who knows, maybe it will achieve some effect if it being so opposite as to what it's supposed to be." What effect that is, I truely don't know. I do admit the "form" is somethign I overloooked. Should I have known, I most likely would not have made this into a sonnet.

As the author, and having read it over so many times, I no longer have a firm grasp on where it doesn't flow. I did notice that the first stanza has different sentence style from the rest of the poem. Being 2 sentences in 1.

Another place is the last line of the third stanza, I originally had "I guess I'm just addicted to my knife," Perhaps that is less confusing.

If you can help point out where you think don't flow and perhaps explain why, it will be greatly appreciated indeed.

Thanks for your insights, and thanks in advance for the more detailed comment you promised

[Velata]

... May I...?

Perhaps to add to the obstructed flow of the phrases in this rageless sonnet, I would like to point out that everything exist for a reason, even the meters that were used in poetry. Iambic pentameter is the format that resemble spoken speech the most, and it had been a common choice for the construction of sonnets. This piece follows only a third of what a sonnet would be: it has the rhyming form, but not structures within the sentences, and the content is definately not traditional, as far as sonnets are concerned.

I would also like to point out a few things that I have noticed (with no contempt to Wayward Wayne):

1. The last sentence of the first stanza stands out because it makes no literal sense, while the other lines are blantly literal, to the point of pain. Lines may not be perfect sentences, but they should still make some sense.

2. "A lustful blade into virgin flesh tore" is one interesting line that I cannot shake from my mind. The imagery here is rather blatant, and I highly doubt if that is what Corrusader has in mind. After all, what has his "sick mind" done to break his body? From the sounds of that line, one would almost say that Corrusader's character had someone else's body broken, with his blade, and not his mind.

3. At the end of the sonnet, the rhyming couplet seem to imply that the protagonist is pleading to someone, and yet there is no mention and implication of such things from the beginning of the poem. Italian sonnets (of which I have had a little more experience with) usually present a problem, and attempt to solve it at the end (posing a dilemma, and come to a conclusion or a decision at the end, e.g.), therefore, the presentation of this poem seem awkward, and the ending out of place and abrupt.

I agree with Wayward Wayne that many of the lines do not make literal sense, and do not flow very well due to the multitude of sentence fragments. However, another thing I should probably point out is that even in poetry, whenever there is punctuation, the rules of a phrase or a sentence still uphold. Therefore, a phrase that sounds like "Again I'm warm yet somehow I shiver,\Can safety be bought by burning my life?" would not only flow strangely, but is also confusing.

Both Wayward Wayne and I are notorious for being late, aren't we?

Merry Christmas

[Corrusader]

Ahh Velata and Wayward Wayne, two generous folks I can always depend on for opinions.

I had to reply the moment I saw the comments, but I STRONGLY INSIST YOU DON'T READ THIS UNTIL AFTER CHRISTMAS. It's not the kind of subject you want to read about on the Christmas day. Merry Christmas!

Velata, from your post and the three points you raised, I can only come to the conclusion that what you saw in the poem did not match what I see... much. Although some great person did say the poet write half of the poem and the reader writes the other; if I explain myself it may be less frustrating.

First stanza is about how I (the character) am alone, and no one cares and I am very, very sad. Let me emphasize, very very sad. Maybe it is because of the hate, or the hurt, or other reasons, but I'm alone and powerless. The last line emphasizes the desperation of the condition: I matter so little I might as well suicide.

So when I lost all that kept me going, I took a knife ,and cut myself. The blade is a real blade, virgin flesh refers to my arm at the first time of my cuts.

Before we continue, I'd like to attempt to answer Velata's second point by saying the assumed reason to my self mutalation:

I feel anxious and alone and powerless. So much so that I don't think I matter, I began to question my importance in this world, and even my existence. Do I matter? Can I do anything? I feel so inscure, so unsafe. What's there to calm my despair? I'm desperate and I'm anxious... of life.

Anyway, so I cut myself on my arm, maybe even attempt to carve my name. Seeing the blood provided me some safety, that I still exist. It tells me that what I do will still result a consequence, pain. It reassure me of my power, over my body. It calmed my anxiety, and gave me relief. It provided me some pleasure (the "dark pleasure"), like the feeling when you can itch an itch.

So you can see because of the insecurity and loneliness in my mind I tortured myself. That explains "My sickened mind had my body broken; /But where the pain is dark pleasure would roar"

The third stanza is just further explaination about how I feel better because I still have the power to hurt myself. My conscious of course questions if I'm feeling true security. The answer by my knife is "yes, this is the sanctuary you've been searching for."

To answer your third point Velata, I'll explain the final cuplets. I'm assuming after such scary poem, you'll be tempted to take my knife (sword) away so I stop hurting myself. I'm assuming you're gonna contact the doctors to help. To give me friends, and make me "normal" again, so I stop feeling so insecure and the need to hurt myself will go away. I'm telling you not to do that in the cuplet, as my knife is the only thing keeping me from taking my life. In other words, I'm in too deep to get out.

Oh, "Again I'm warm yet somehow I shiver," refers back to the storm and how cold it is. The knife solves the problems as mentioned before. I shiver because I'm hurting myself and the cuts are scary as is the blood. I shiver in the pleasure of pain.

[Advent Childhe]

Greetings:

Merry Christmas to all.

Hmm. Other people on the forum are starting to pick up on the lateness thing. I must improve on my punctuality.

The argument of the poem does not befit that of a sonnet.

With poetic licensing, the poet may basically write any thing he or she wishes and have the readers look at it anyway they can - such is the might and seduction of poetry. However, presentation of the main argument is important.

To be plain, the use of sentence fragments, and the application of a gamesh of adjectives and imagery in this case does not protray your main argument well. Fragmentation leads to ambiguous identifications. Random adjectives lead to misleading tags as to what descriptor was designated to which noun.

Do not misunderstand me. Use of metaphores and similies and other literary devices is common as the air we breath and as varied as the flakes of snow (grin). But they cust be connected to some context to make sense.

In your mind, this poem makes perfect sense. After reading your argument, a re-reading of te poem paints a clear but dark picture of how the character torments himself. However, without your supplemental notes, the poem is discordant and ambiguous. Mind, discordinance and ambiguity may be the point of some poems and narratives, but from the feelings that the poem gives to me (as a reader) this is not the case.

Perhapes - you do not have to take my suggestions - take the argument that you've wrtten for Velata, and start on a new poem. Doff the restriction of rhyming for now, and write it as how you would describe some tormented creature. If you can make sense of it narratively, in prose, then you can try to covert the ideas into a more lyrical thing.

Articulation is key if you want to tell the readers something.

Yours, always,
Wayward,

[Corrusader]

Yes, it is blatant in the feedback that this poem is ambigious and confusing to the readers. Perhaps it is the wording and fragments as wayward suggested, or perhaps it is because the reader can't relate to the topic in the poem well. The misuse of the sonnet form further distracted readers from the topic.

One thing is clear, I need to further clearify the topic (or plot) when I write on a similar topic. After all, masochism is not something people face every day.

Please comment further if you can, as how a piece of work is received is the utmost concern an author has. When thoughts between author and readers differ as much as this one, I'd like to learn more about the difference. In other words, tell me what word/phrase/imagery/metaphor confused you. Thanks again.

[Velata]

... May I...?

I would like to thank Corrusader for the cinematic representation of his poem. For people who are constantly living in doubt and depression, sometimes taking control over something that could be considered as their proof of existance is reassuring, no matter what that may be. Self-mutilation is not all that uncommuon in anguished and confused individuals, and they do not necessarily lead to self-immolation, neatly described and explained in Corrusader's monologue reply.

The only problem which I encounter is that the poem itself does not give the reader a very clear picture of this story. If anything, I would take the monologue over the poem for a better literary excursion. After all, with all the sentence fragments, it would take an author's eye to paint this story in the correct view of what it should have been.

The first time I read this poem, I thought it was about the anguish of a soldier who, at the height of his own confusion and despair, decided to take pleasure in killing the innocent civilians from the other camp, people he usually wouldn't consider as enemies. Perhaps he was fighting a meaningless war, perhaps that's all there is to his existance, and at one inopportune moment, decided that he was going to search out his raison d'etre, and to his horror, he could find none. He sounded as if he was captured at the end, and pled for his sword, which is, after all, the symbol of his commanding lord, and perhaps, the only reason for his existance as he percieved it.

Not so far removed from reality, if we keep in mind that there is a few wars being fought in the world as we speak, and from the vantage point of a neutral country, the reasons for these conflicts seem trivial and meaningless.

As I go back to read the poem again and again, I have to say that Corrsader's own account started to emerge, however, there is no reason to think my own version is at fault. And that... that is the reason I have had a problem with this poem. As crafty as the poet must be, he must present the story with enough details so that the readers may have a solid ground from which to build their imagination upon.

Clarity outweighs fanciful words and phrases when it comes to narrating a story. Length doesn't really matter, since what captures the readers is the story you are trying to tell, and not the length. Most people would consider Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy as one long story, however, few would (or could) deny that it was a good story.

I agree with Wayward Wayne that the sonnet may not be a good place to start when Corrusader is trying to convey the picture of pain and anguish along with a series of physical activities [Sonnets are love poems, most love-struck waif lean upon a window sill and muse away... and poetry is made]. There simply isn't enough space to convey a clear picture of what was happening in the physical plane and the mental spheres. On the other hand, I have to once again comment on the time and effort Corrusader had undertaken in forming these rhymed lines. They remain both thoughtful and refreshing whenever I go back to reading his poetry. What Corrusader might consider is to look back to other lyrical poems or ballads for further inspiration on form and content. They tell stories in verse, however, they have no length restriction, which could free up space for Corrusader to decide how much information is necessary for the readers to "get" what the author is trying to tell them.

Hope this helps.

[Corrusader]

It helps and it helps tremendously. I don't think your version of the story is in any way at fault. In fact, I think any story with an abuser and a victim involving bloodshed would fit quite well. I was hoping that "my sickened mind had my body broken" would clarify things. I guess I was horribly wrong.

Yes, clarity is perhaps the most important thing in a poem. I have to work on that.

Thanks for the kind comments again, my gratitude also goes towards your time.