The skeletons march

The soul's dry season

Photo courtesy R. Pelisson - http://www.SaharaMet.com

 

 

The skeletons march

 

The skeletons march

Parched land

Dry season

The absence of water

I wither and die!

 

My thoughts are but dust

Bones bleached

Soul empty

There’s nothing to nourish

My fate worse than death!

 

Who is that calling?

Hopeful

With promise

My spirit is longing

Listening to all!

 

Give me your wisdom

Speak now

Your High Word

Expecting heart rising

Oh please soon begin

 

I drink your water

It wastes

Past dry lips

It's slipping through dry bones

And wetting the sand

 

I remain empty

Seeking

Salvation

Desperately searching

But nothing is there!         

 

No one can help me

I cry

In darkness

For what am I searching?

Hot callous winds blow

 

The skeletons march

Empty

Forsaken

I am of their number

Forced march of my soul

 

 

 

©2008 Richard Puetter

All rights reserved.

Reviews

[The Thracian]

The skeletons march
Parched land
Dry season
The absence of water
I wither and die!
-----
This style of writing is unfamiliar coming from you, but I've always had a soft spot for it. The almost choppy dry definition of things in a rapture-like form of writing. It's almost like crude thinking patterns evolving from images like a cactus springs from the barren wastelands of deserts. I at first got an image of the religious march of Moses here, and I know that wasn't the image you were painting, but image a whole herd of people walking through a desert where only mana (bread) came to save them food wise. THEY must have felt like this first verse through and through, and the must've looked like skeletons marching. I also particularly liked your punctuation here ^^.

My thoughts now all dust
Bones bleached
Soul empty
There's nothing to nourish
My fate worse than death!
----
Now keeping in mind your little metering scheme, I suggest this for your first verse: 'My thoughts are but dust.' This would put more emphasis on the sounding of dust, truly allowing it to dabble in the limelight of the end of verse position it has. I also saw a fascinating link between verses two and three, in that marrow in some cases is the producer of blood, which is the fluid of life in man as well as a carrier of his DNA (history, story, everything that he is), which could be comparable to a manifestation of the soul. I've never thought of marrow that way though. I also firmly believe there is no fate worse than death, besides that in which there is no death - at least for our imperfect existence. I must also ask, do you consider the -ed of verbs as a syllable? Because I've always personally considered it as one in that you should say believ�d, instead of swallowing the syllable like the common practice of today. I ask this because later on I notice only two syllables in your second verses.

Who is that calling?
Hopeful
With promise
My spirit is longing
I listen to all!
-----
Isn't this idea a little insane? I also wonder, for verse five, why not say 'listening to all!' to continue the ing of longing and calling in the strophe. You could even make 'with promise' simply 'promising' and have an -ing strophe altogether.

Give me your wisdom
Speak now
Your High Word
Expectant heart rises
Oh please soon begin
------
Give me what I would steal otherwise... Would it hurt if you added an exclamation mark after verse two? I also wonder what is so high of "your word?" That idea just seems a little sudden.. Maybe you got high from hope and keeping your chin up, but then why not sky? Maybe sound heavenly about it, since you've dropped a few spiritual notes in the piece already. Also for verse four, why not 'expecting hearts rising' to be more in the motion of.

I drink your water
Wasting
Past dry lips
It slips through my dry bones
Now wetting the sand
----
For this strophe I suggest, somehow so damnably stuck on -ing:
Drinking your water
Wasting
Past dry lips
It's slipping through dry bones
And wetting (the or my, but I find that my might be more effective as it would return to the idea of the soul) sand

The next stanza is great just as it is in my opinion, as it both shows the insanity of the mirage and the whole disillusionment of man when he knows too much - or thinks he does in certain cases, even believes he does in others.

The next one is good as well, though the last verse makes me wonder why you placed the words in such an odious manner, where they could easily be placed like so : Hot winds blow callous....

The last one I have just one verse I'd like to see altered as well, verse four. Of their number would have to be numbers firstly I believe (Unless you imagine one set number, therein the individual would be of that number, unchangeably set for eternity), and secondly I suggest this: I am in their numbers (or among their ranks) and possibly end this verse with a semi-colon to soften the last verse.

So overall, I like this style of writing from you, it's actually quite cool. But I don't know if I like this tone of voice, or subject coming from you. You're usually so assertive and positive whereas here you seem submissive and negative. But that might just be a bias I have in almost expecting strong and good things from you (which is a bad thing to do on my part, because then you become my wish as perceived by me, instead of the person you actually are). Yup.

Thrace

[Samuel Dickens]

I suddenly feel quite thirsty. Great stuff, Rick. I can just picture the dry spirits trudging across that desert.

[alesuriko]

Symbolism indeed sir. Good piece. I was hoping for something a little more... dark and creepy when I read the title but this is fitting and good. I love the desert setting and the deprived atmosphere full of hallucinations and mirages. I really loved the last stanza, "I am of their number" really intriguing imagery with that one. The desperation is well displayed, great job.

[Marie Anzalone]

That desert of the interior heartland is a pretty desolate place sometimes, isn't it?
I cannot help but wonder if you are looking for help with the piece itself, or with the subject matter?

You seem to have captured that feeling of walking through life, going through the motions of living, while captured in the midst of a severe depression. "depression" is not "feeling sad" all the time, rather it is the absence of any feeling but rage and despair. It has been likened to walking through a black and white movie... or a desert.

Yet I cannot help but notice the gentle humor underneath your seemingly bleak words... a man able to poke fun at himself, as if an observer in his own life, perhaps? This is a very nice thought-provoking piece. I agree it is a different style for you, and perhoas does not flow as well as some of your others. It feels more disjointed, but that does not clash at all with the subject matter.

If it is sany consolation, mystice beleive that a dark night of the soul is necessary for transforamtion of the soul into a higher awareness- that period of doubt after being accustomed to hearing a higher voice and calling. Apparently, Mother Theresa's lasted most of her adult life. Who are we to argue?

[ALifeAquatic]

The imagery is to die for.. a great piece of poetry .. simply gorgeous in detail and unique metaphors.. that was awesome!

Thank you for entering this in, "Be Experimental," it is exactly what I was looking to read from someone, in fact I'd go as far as to say that it is beyond all my expectations of what would be entered! Obviously this is this poem by you that I've read but I'm going to fix that and read more. I can't say much more as I'm still hoping for more entries but this is going to be hard to beat. Brilliant!

AHouseOfChambers

[Legion]

A soul crying out. It is the bane of humanity until sustenance is found. Well done.

[a]

A powerful poem that represents loneliness, struggle for freedom (although it may seem that a desert is the place where freedom is born, but feel that isn't so), powerful characters, familiar to our souls, this poem diggs deep into us and roams about trying to find a place where to rest.
Personally I find some of the stanzas quite banal and the ideas not so original, but the writing is well adopted, fluent and expressive.
The most powerful verse I think is the 4th one -
"Give me your wisdom
Speak now
Your High Word
Expectant heart rises
Oh please soon begin" - it's absolutely amazing, it's the point of sudden change in the flowing stream, a change of characters thoughts and views - he is definitely yearning, he's in hunger for freedom, salvation.

Thank you very much!

[Max]

wow. you're really a great poet! great job.

good, consistent meter. just overall good everything.

not much i can find to criticize

[Miss Prince]

I like the symbolism here, and it's a tragic subject, the whole desperation/depression idea. :( And I like the phrase "Your High Word" because it sounds like Shakespeare. As much as I hate the man, he was a genius. Nice work.

[Gandré]

I liked this poem very much, another style, I noticed...
This can be a situation of everyone, searching in the dark,
insecurity within oneself, even a situation in a country, this
can be everything. great writing.