Daydreams

[cryptomancer]

Stolen from the thundering plains of savannah,

That opens the expanse of my land of birth,

My spirit drifts, aimless and alone, empty, forgotten.

Calling my being to wander, ever housed, never at home.

 

I dream of stars opening the expanse of heaven to my eyes,

The kiss of dry air drifting over the grass, feeling the soft thrum

Of the acacia thorns, each white tip scratching trails in the night.

Hold of the plains cutting deep into the veins of my soul.

 

The dust settles, as it watches the dancing wind,

Dervish, daemons of the plains, the torment of the unwary.

But I am weary, wandering through a land of gold,

Sacred and scarred, scared soul running free,

Hugging my being for comfort, breathing ageless eternity.

 

……

 

 

[Mynx]

Beautiful

[Wyvern]

Nice poem, cryptomancer. :-) "Exotic" is the first word that comes to mind to describe it, as details like the "acacia thorns" and the "dervish" really helped in giving this poem an intriguing foreign feel. I liked the "kiss of dry air" line in the second stanza, as the notion of a kiss being dry really fit the feel of the setting to me and made the atmosphere of the grassy plains come to life. I also really liked the use of alliteration in the second to last line, as it was an interesting arrangement of words that caught my attention and gave the soul a very mystical feel.

 

I actually think that the second to last line might work better as an ending for the poem than the current last line, as the abstraction of "breathing ageless eternity" was vague to me and didn't seem as original as the rest of the piece. I also think that the subtitle of the poem might work better as a title than the current title... something about the phrasing of "I from africa... mmmm, in my blood it is" bothers me. Perhaps the possible implication that African people speak in broken English? I dunno if that's it, but something there bugs me.

 

Anyway, nicely done. :-) A very vivid and exotic interpretation of daydreams.

[cryptomancer]

Sorry about the title, I had a Yoda moment... and I normally dont title my poems anyway, it more a case of I have to put something in that field to post it so I do..

 

The last line gave closure, I did almost leave it at the penultimate line but it seemed incomplete. But you are right, it is a bit etherial, but then.... it is a feeling you get standing in the savannah at times, the feeling that youare completely insignificant to the land, that you are almost an intrusion to its existance.

 

I see what I can do with it.

 

Thanks

 

[cryptomancer]

Stolen from the thundering plains of savannah,

That opens the expanse of my land of birth,

My spirit drifts, aimless and alone, empty, forgotten.

Calling my being to wander, ever housed, never at home.

 

I dream of stars opening the expanse of heaven to my eyes,

The kiss of dry air drifting over the grass, feeling the soft thrum

Of the acacia thorns, each white tip scratching trails in the night.

Hold of the plains cutting deep into the veins of my soul.

 

The dust settles, as it watches the dancing wind,

Dervish, daemons of the plains, the torment of the unwary.

But I am weary, wandering through a land of gold,

Sacred and scarred, scared soul running free.

 

 

(Thanks Wyvern, Good call to drop the last line)

 

[Disco-neck Ted]

This is very nice. I enjoyed it, the sensations and emotions that were evoked.

 

Some very hard-working usage, too:

 

"...each white tip scratching trails in the night."

 

Vivid.

 

 

A very minor lapse (in my opinion) in an otherwise excellent piece would be the start of the second line. At first read, the savannah 'opens' the land of your birth, leading me to believe that it is but part of a larger African imagescape, one that might contain other elements such as forests, jungles or mountains. Then it becomes obvious in the rest of the poem that the veldt isn't the entryway to something larger, but the entire vision of the dreamer. I misunderstood.

 

On a second read, the syllables before 'my land of birth' seem like a good place to have another detail or description that furthers the savannah image. Perhaps your intent was to deliberately slow the pace there, but if not, there could be an opportunity for sharper focus, or a stronger personal tie. Also, that line takes away a bit of strength from the start of the next stanza when the phrase is repeated there, but everyone seems to have differing opinions on repetition, so it could just be me.

 

Anyhow, a tasty piece of work!

Edited September 18, 2006 by Disco-neck Ted

[cryptomancer]

ok, I started revising again, and keep making more issuses for myself, so this may just create another poem, we see what the mind reveals.

 

[cryptomancer]

OK, small revision:

 

Stolen from the thundering plains of savannah,

An ageless wellspring, that blest my mortal blood.

My spirit drifts, empty, forgotten, aimless and alone.

Calling my being to wander, ever housed, never at home.

 

Deep heavens drench my heart in a flood of familiar stars,

The kiss of dry air drifting over the grass, feeling the soft thrum

Of the acacia thorns, each white tip scratching trails in the night.

Hold of the plains cutting deep into the veins of my soul.

 

The dust settles, as it watches the dancing wind,

Dervish, daemons of the plains, the torment of the unwary.

But I am weary, wandering through a land of gold,

Sacred and scarred, scared soul running free.

 

[Disco-neck Ted]

Wow. Nice stuff. Parts that may have idled along before now really flex some muscle, in keeping with the rest of the poem. I like the alliteration in the new start of stanza 2. Enough for strength but not too much.

 

Good show!

[cryptomancer]

Thank you.