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The Cynic
| Critical Analysis #1 |
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The Cynic |
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Hawk183 Member
since 1999-12-24
Posts 130 |
he said not to write, words are simply hollow, "poisen poetry" leaving paper trails, illussion steps on futile paths, he said dreams live in distant regret, and hope corrodes courage for change, he smiled a toothless smile, he said look at me boy, I am a life that has lived, not frozen to the waking world, imprisoned and impassioned by fleeting Muses, you frown, but I am the only life to live, all your feelings, insprired maybe... but there is no passion, you claim and qoute, useless rederic without a home, your failures printed, your loves on a page, a blind man who runs in the road, open your eyes boy, a tear touched me, not mine for I witheld, he cursed my name, damned my dreams, he read aloud from my pages, laughing like the mad he shuddered once, his voice low and deep in a growl, he reached slowly inside, places lost to him, and I saw it was him that was blind, and the whimper pierced me, the agony condemned me, the keystone of his spirit cease to be, a bridge of sixty lay in a rubble, and in this moment, in the eye of this storm, my hand found its way to my pen, and I said to him, look at me sir, for I am a life that has loved to live, I have tasted the nectar of fear, I have made love to the morning sun, and I have kissed the delicate hands of hope, they, sir, are the Muse that will not leave, as I left him, for the last time it seemed, his face had color I had not seen, and the brittle fingers that had once only pointed, played the instrument I had left him, his smile wide, he looked up once, all will know boy,soon they all will know, for I am a life that has lived. Hawk |
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Wendy Flora Member
since 2000-01-11
Posts 182Virginia |
wow. (that's really all I can think of to say... that's pretty sad for a writer to run out of words...) WOW. I love it. I hope you don't mind if I print it out? -wen "Well she wants to live her life, then she thinks about her life... Pulls her hair back as she screams, I don't really want to live this life!" -Train "Meet Virginia" |
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Brad Member Ascendant
since 1999-08-20
Posts 5705Jejudo, South Korea |
Hawk, I see two typo's 'poison'[poisen] and 'rhetoric'[rederic] or are these intended as alternate spellings. I'm not particularly fond of this type of mythic background poetry (but with all the sonnets with 'thee' and 'thy' going around right now, who am I to argue). I thought this stanza: and I said to him, look at me sir, for I am a life that has loved to live, I have tasted the nectar of fear, I have made love to the morning sun, and I have kissed the delicate hands of hope, they, sir, are the Muse that will not leave, was a bit overdone and could definitely be toned down (and wonder how such things are actually possible) but if I'm going to let those sonnets go unpunished, I might as well let this one as well (What do we make January the Renaissance month for Passions?). So, as I see this poem, the old mad berates the boy for concerning himself with writing, not because he thinks it trivial, but because he has lost the 'muse' himself and is envious. Through the boy's words, the 'muse' returns to the old man and he begins to write again. I was a little confused with what was actually 'left' to the old man and wondered if you might think about having the boy leave the pen? Just an idea, Brad |
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Wordshaman Member
since 2000-01-17
Posts 110Illinois, USA |
This is just incredible. The old man seems to want to pick up the pen to "show the young man how it's done". Or if not entirely because of such a bad reason, then at least partially so. He remembers what he would've said and how he would've said it if he were in the young man's position. Lovely. Wordshaman |
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Songbird Member Elite
since 1999-12-15
Posts 2184Missouri |
In my humble opinion, this is a powerful piece of writing, I enjoyed it very much, personally the lines Brad thought were overdone, I enjoyed very much. The spellings he mentioned are the only problems I found. The picture presented, kind of reminds me of an Uncle of mine that was a unapreciated writer, his father couldn't find much use for it, as he would rather have him in the field doing farm chores. |
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DesertJana Junior Member
since 2000-01-26
Posts 19USA |
I must agree with WS on this! This is a poignant story, a well honed work! Extreme Kudos! Jana (Ps...I read past spelling errors-*g* I make enough of them myself) |
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Hawk183 Member
since 1999-12-24
Posts 130 |
Wendy,WS,Septsong,and Desert, Thank you all for the compliments...I really do appreciate them...I apologize for the typos...but what can I say...my spelling has always been bad(horrorible maybe  )Thanks again...Brad, The stanza in question was in fact my favorite...a little melodramatic maybe...but for the purpose of the poem it is this way for a reason...as for how to accomplish such the task that are mentioned...there is always a feeling when one writes(at least for me)"making love to the morning sun" is the passion that we feel in the simple act of using poetic devices to describe it...to look beyond just the sun, and find the beauty. "delicate hands of hope"-easy enough to imagine...we are held sometimes by hope alone...and often those hands are delicate. "tasted the nectar of fear"- absolute fear is a powerful thing...the nectar is the emotion in its purest form...so much of a presence you can taste it. For the poem these verses were used to rekindle the thoughts in the old man's mind, the words he had let slip away. To show him that a Muse can be found anywhere, we need only look. Does this explain? Lastly, it was the pen that the boy left to the man... "my hand found my way to my pen..." and then "played the instrument I left him" Maybe this was a little too unclear... Anyway...thanks for reading and pointing out the spelling errors. Hawk |
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Local Rebel Member Ascendant
since 1999-12-21
Posts 5767Southern Abstentia |
In poetry there are no spelling errors -- merely poetic liscence...  Very good hawk. |
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