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

[Fran Marie]

A poignant write with intense emotions of loneliness and desparation

surfacing thru~ , also great use of metaphors within~ superb writing~

Fran

[Michael X]

I like this poem, the depth is present, and it has passion, two quality keys
that make a great write, in simplicity, I think the words create a vision far
larger, I'm all about refined wording, so I like this, the only thing that caught
me was a small detail, but didnt detract from the quality or impression.
also, the metaphor and imagery is unique, and not cliche, or to me at least,
For what am I searching?..."So why am I searching?..or "It's why I am searching."
thats just the way i read it, but the discrepency doesn't effect the quality,
excellent job.

[Rick Puetter]

Dear Thracian,

A stellar review. As you see, I have agreed with many of your suggestions. Thank you,my friend. This is what I hope for from my readers. Insightful commetns--I get this from many--you know who you are.

As you surmised, no, I don't consider adding "ed" to a word as increasing the syllable count.

"Your high word" is a religious reference. I'm hoping that someone can give me a significant "high" statement, a summary of life's meaning, that I can hold onto. Alas, "It's slipping through dry bones / And wetting the sand".

Again, my friend, you bring lots of good suggestions. I don't accept them all, but this time, your vision for this piece it exceptional and I find your suggestions well targeted to increase the power of my poem.

I'm truly thankful.

Best regards,

Rick

[Loribeth215]

I like the symbolism, but I could imagine it in a literal way also, a ghost haunting the desert.

[Adela Muresan]

Wow, you really put the desperation inside the poem.
Knowledge is presented like some sot of nourishment of the soul when it is in fact the cause of disappointment, the fantasy always being better than the reality.
I think you had a great idea with the skeleton march. It is true that we walk dead if we do not find something to love, or in other words if we are not ,,saved,,.

A.M.

[M Bacchus]

There seems to be a huge void in your life that cannot be filled and so the metaphor of the skeletons, speak loud and clear, but it goes deeper then just a loss, it is also a cry for help, for you to hear there is hope that this dry spell will again be nourished, fulfilled. You have painted a vivid picture of desolate loneliness, despair. Excellent use of metaphors.
Michael