Forum Moderators: wheatpenny, Wolfenshire
Writers F.A.Q (Last Updated: 2024 Nov 14 6:44 am)
wow This was definitely a poetic "page turner" for me. I couldn't help but race through it. My personal preference would be putting line breaks between the stanzas, but it would give it a slightly different feel - slowing it down a little - which might not be what you're looking for. I love darker poetry, and this really hit home.
I tend to think it should be broken up also. It's set up the line count is 6:8:8:8:8:5.I don't think having one line less in the beginning and two less at the end is throwing it off balance. Perhaps that "no lingering goodbyes in line 33 should have been on its own line,that would've balanced it fully. It does suggest a graphic and that's what I like.
Very strong. I like the visual language that makes it come alive, especially the colors: onyx, inky, scarlet. Add an apostrophe for the possessive in "the ground's upheaval" and I think insistent has an "e" rather than "a". I think the two end lines are very strong, and also evocative of some classic work that I can't finger at the moment. Is it "The bell tolls, it tolls for me"? -Joe
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The rider comes His onyx cloak billows against an inky sky Silhouetted by the moon's cold glow Stallion's legs pump powerfully Thundering through the night The cold blast of its breath announcing The arrival. Scarlet orbs burning from a shadowed hood Teeth bared in a mocking smile Leather clad fingertips touching the reigns The rider comes. The earth trembles in his presence The grounds upheaval an insistant cry For Him to pass by swiftly, shivering in the wake of The arrival. I feel the grounds convulsion, the twisted dance of fate And turn to fix my visage to the horizon. Against the swirling silvered mist The rider comes. No longer moving, breathing, speaking... The heart seems to hover in anticipation... Sensing with quavering wonder... The arrival. The horizon explodes in a vicious crescendo Of steed's and Master's screams The song of the banshee ripping asunder tranquility... The rider comes. My head lifts high, my soul echoing the shouts I cannot move...I wait and utter up vain prayers To vain gods...Knowing that I must be ready for The arrival. No last look, no lingering goodbyes A simple cutting of binding ties A strong arm stretches out for me, I lift my hand in surrender... The rider comes. He comes for me.