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Critical Analysis #1
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Mike
Member Elite
since 1999-06-19
Posts 2462


0 posted 2000-11-02 11:41 PM



                Far off in the distance, I hear a tolling bell,
                I walk along in cadence, encaptured in its spell,
                I am just a traveller, passing by this way,
                When I top that final hill, on cold December day.

                A biting wind comes out the north, soon will its teeth spit snow,
                An icy chill runs down my spine, as gaze on scene below,
                Three people stand beside a grave, wood coffin lays inside,
                Behind white church with tolling bell, a cold day to have died.

                I think perhaps inside the church, some warmth that I will find,
                So I walk towards the three, to ask if they would mind,
                They stand in total silence, no sorrow can I see,
                As I approach, three turn away, no word they say to me.

                The bell is tolling louder now, as I stand alone,
                Gazing down on open grave, beside a blank tombstone,
                I look aound for mourners, no longer see the three,
                Father, Son and Holy Ghost, the Holy Trinity.

                Leafless trees above hang low, over deep and silent grave,
                Winter is descending, soon will the land enslave,
                Dark skies above foreboding, not yet a snowflake shed,
                In grip of icy tenacle, feel touch of recent dead.

                Soul's despair of haunting sorrow, hangs from the lifeless trees,
                Clouds of terror reaching out, bell's tolling death decrees,
                With mournful soul and somber limbs, am touched by lifeless breath,
                At frozen grave stand face to face, with unrelenting death.

                From the church's steeple, the bell tolls louder yet,
                Within my mind a madness, the tolling has beset,
                Do you hear the tolling, the tolling of the bell?
                O' God, please stop the tolling, I hear my own death knell.

[This message has been edited by Mike (edited 11-02-2000).]

© Copyright 2000 Mike - All Rights Reserved
jbouder
Member Elite
since 1999-09-18
Posts 2534
Whole Sort Of Genl Mish Mash
1 posted 2000-11-03 12:29 PM


Mike:

I was a little distracted by the format and don't think it is the best choice to support your theme (my opinion, of course).  The rhyming couplets and uncomplicated end-rhymes are usually better suited for humorous poetry.  Also, at times, you omitted words and altered natural word order (inversion) to preserve your meter and rhyme.  Two lines as examples:

quote:
Winter is descending, soon will the land enslave,
Dark skies above foreboding, not yet a snowflake shed,


Arguably, the inversion in the second line works pretty well.  Attention is drawn to "shed" and I think and this, I think, is beneficial.  The first line, however, sounds forced.  The pause after "descending" seems unnatural and the force of "enslave" is lost by the inversion.

I suppose the greatest problem I had with the theme was the format.  I would suggest a free-verse format or a relaxation of the rhyme scheme (perhaps an abxb format) so that the rhymes come with less frequency, drawing less attention to them.

The last stanza is a little confusing.  Is the speaker actually the disembodied deceased?  I like the idea but perhaps you could make this more clear, giving the poem more punch, if you ended the poem with the speaker reading his own name on the tombstone.  I know this has a Dickens ring to it but, actually, the theme you are dealing with is somewhat common.

Just some thoughts.

Jim



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