I realized today that I had forgotten fear. Not in the way of adults - rational misgivings And mis-titled worries based on knowledge, And a pervasive awareness of the future - Not fear of heights, or failure, or cancer Not fear of
I love your description of fear “in the way of adults”, especially as “a pervasive awareness of the future”. That’s definitely true, and your examples serve well. I also do like the “Not fear of” cliffhanger, although I wish there were something to do in formatting to keep that from being such a block in reading. It forces the reader to come to a full stop, and finding a “but” after that is a little disconcerting.
But a baseless, mindless, breathless terror Because something is happening, and you don’t know what Something is happening to you, and you don’t know why, or how Something was and now is not
This section is great because it forces the reader to speed up again. You’re using simple, direct, short, common language. Plus, some repetition; just enough to give some familiar places but not too many, and definitely enough to drive home the fact that, as simple and common as these words are, they’re not specific. We have no way of knowing what this “something” we’re afraid of is, and that’s how it should be.
And there is literally nothing to even conceive of doing about it. Fear without preposition
These two lines are a foot on the break pedal again. “Literally” and “conceive” break up that simple, direct, common language you were using to drive home the idea of primordial fear. We’ve moved from being in the moment as a terrified child to being outside it again, examining it as adults. I don’t know that I like the shift; maybe this stanza should finish arousing that nugget of childish baseless terror it started stirring.
Yet, sometimes ones mind shades too far into the edges of the infinite Before shying asymptotically away; Here, it lies far closer to the face of things. And here I fell into the swelling waves, listening:
The first two lines are totally adult language and represent a total shift from the end of the first stanza, even with the speedbump that had been at the end. I like the image, but I find it a little too obscured to hit home. It’s a total shift from the home-hitting fears in the previous stanza, so much that it seems like a different poem.
On the other hand, the next two lines subtly shift back to the sensory part of the poem, especially the last line, which is perfectly written and presented. (I have a thing for drowning imagery, by the way, so here out really resonates with me.)
Fear, like the shore of a distant ocean Certainty pulled away like rings from dead women’s fingers And I am left naked down to my very bones.
I’m not sure why the ocean is distant, considering the rest of the image pulls together to make it seem like fear has engulfed you like the ocean would, drowning you and eating away at you until you are a ringless skeleton at the bottom of the sea. Maybe fear is like the shore of an ocean that creeps up on you - it seems distant until it envelops you!
Slight typo, the original has the last "of" in italics, if that makes a difference. I think you're right about the conceive/literally/foot break thing, and I will probably tweak that.
It's funny that you should say it sounds like a different poem at the end. What I tend to do when writing poetry is collect phrases and sometimes scenarios/images that come to me, and then cast about for topics that seem appropriate to use to build around the awesome line(s)/notion. In this case, the lines were "fear, like the shore of a distant ocean", "like rings pulled from dead women's fingers" [which came to at a wedding, where I was decked out in my finest jewelery, all of it inherited], and a very much later horrible night terror sort of experience that I wanted to convey.
In a way, it sort of is two poems. I'll have to think about that- i might end up separating them, but at the very least I do think it needs a little more cohesion in the middle. As for the distance, a) i like the way it sounds, and b) i was sort of going for a sense of the unknown lurking far away but still connected over the distance, and something you know what it probably looks like and what it should look like but not what it is actually like until you go there and experience it; and an incessant white noise that is always there but you tend to block out, or the cresting and breaking of waves like the occasions of fear over a lifetime, which I suppose would work with a nearby seashore, but I can't think of anything that flows as well as "distant" - any suggestions?
Thanks as always for the input, it is very valuable. I tend to approach things from a parts perspective and don't always get how the gist is portrayed to people who don't know exactly what is in my brain as I write it. :)
I like this poem as a combination of parts; maybe we can still see the seam at the moment, but they definitely have a connection. It's just ironing out the kinks at this point. :) Maybe "nearby" or "distant" are taking the wrong approach. What about something like "lurking", "angry", "spiteful", "incessant"? Maybe you can convey the distance-and-yet-not through some sort of imagery rather than directly stating it?
I realized today that I had forgotten fear.
Not in the way of adults - rational misgivings
And mis-titled worries based on knowledge,
And a pervasive awareness of the future -
Not fear of heights, or failure, or cancer
Not fear of
I love your description of fear “in the way of adults”, especially as “a pervasive awareness of the future”. That’s definitely true, and your examples serve well. I also do like the “Not fear of” cliffhanger, although I wish there were something to do in formatting to keep that from being such a block in reading. It forces the reader to come to a full stop, and finding a “but” after that is a little disconcerting.
But a baseless, mindless, breathless terror
Because something is happening, and you don’t know what
Something is happening to you, and you don’t know why, or how
Something was and now is not
This section is great because it forces the reader to speed up again. You’re using simple, direct, short, common language. Plus, some repetition; just enough to give some familiar places but not too many, and definitely enough to drive home the fact that, as simple and common as these words are, they’re not specific. We have no way of knowing what this “something” we’re afraid of is, and that’s how it should be.
And there is literally nothing to even conceive of doing about it.
Fear without preposition
These two lines are a foot on the break pedal again. “Literally” and “conceive” break up that simple, direct, common language you were using to drive home the idea of primordial fear. We’ve moved from being in the moment as a terrified child to being outside it again, examining it as adults. I don’t know that I like the shift; maybe this stanza should finish arousing that nugget of childish baseless terror it started stirring.
Yet, sometimes ones mind shades too far into the edges of the infinite
Before shying asymptotically away;
Here, it lies far closer to the face of things.
And here I fell into the swelling waves, listening:
The first two lines are totally adult language and represent a total shift from the end of the first stanza, even with the speedbump that had been at the end. I like the image, but I find it a little too obscured to hit home. It’s a total shift from the home-hitting fears in the previous stanza, so much that it seems like a different poem.
On the other hand, the next two lines subtly shift back to the sensory part of the poem, especially the last line, which is perfectly written and presented. (I have a thing for drowning imagery, by the way, so here out really resonates with me.)
Fear, like the shore of a distant ocean
Certainty pulled away like rings from dead women’s fingers
And I am left naked down to my very bones.
I’m not sure why the ocean is distant, considering the rest of the image pulls together to make it seem like fear has engulfed you like the ocean would, drowning you and eating away at you until you are a ringless skeleton at the bottom of the sea. Maybe fear is like the shore of an ocean that creeps up on you - it seems distant until it envelops you!
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It's funny that you should say it sounds like a different poem at the end. What I tend to do when writing poetry is collect phrases and sometimes scenarios/images that come to me, and then cast about for topics that seem appropriate to use to build around the awesome line(s)/notion. In this case, the lines were "fear, like the shore of a distant ocean", "like rings pulled from dead women's fingers" [which came to at a wedding, where I was decked out in my finest jewelery, all of it inherited], and a very much later horrible night terror sort of experience that I wanted to convey.
In a way, it sort of is two poems. I'll have to think about that- i might end up separating them, but at the very least I do think it needs a little more cohesion in the middle. As for the distance, a) i like the way it sounds, and b) i was sort of going for a sense of the unknown lurking far away but still connected over the distance, and something you know what it probably looks like and what it should look like but not what it is actually like until you go there and experience it; and an incessant white noise that is always there but you tend to block out, or the cresting and breaking of waves like the occasions of fear over a lifetime, which I suppose would work with a nearby seashore, but I can't think of anything that flows as well as "distant" - any suggestions?
Thanks as always for the input, it is very valuable. I tend to approach things from a parts perspective and don't always get how the gist is portrayed to people who don't know exactly what is in my brain as I write it. :)
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