A Poet's Workshop

The Answer
Based on the Philip Wylie novella


High above swirls of clouds
Way above blue angry planet
Angels plunging through shrouds
Of mist to concrete and granite
Their wings

I no longer have a copy of Wylie's book, but my general impression of it ought to be enough to sustain me.

This sounds like it will be an interesting thread. I don't seem to have any uncompleted works at the moment, but I'll be glad to offer any help or suggestions to anyone else.

Hi, colorbook. Sometimes writing is for me like watching wallpaper fade. Poetry, in particular. Prose is a little bit easier.

I find poetry much easier than prose.

What feelings exactly, are you trying to portray in this poem; I am not familiar with Philip Wylie.

In this little novella, he tells of two beings with all the appearance of Angels falling to Earth. Something in the process killed them. One comes to rest near Wash. DC and the other near Moscow. Both are taken in by the two governments for study. The tale focusses then on the American in possession of a thick book the angelic being carried. He goes through page after page of indecipherable writing, writing apparently repeating one terse message throughout. He can only conclude that it is the writing of beings from other planets. As he nears the end of the book he begins to recognize the languages of Earth. Long before he comes to the page that is English he is filled with excitement which grows and becomes full jubilation as he turns to the last page. The terse message the angelic beings were bringing to the people on Earth: Love one another.

This story sounds familiar to me.

This is only a suggestion:



High above swirls of clouds
Way above blue angry planet
Two angels plunging through shrouds
Of mist to concrete and granite

Enfolded wings of feathered down
Sacrifices made all unaware
Immortal beings succumbed to doom
With no answers to their prayer

Sounds good, colorbook.

Upon this earth they died with grace
Specimens for mankind to dissect
Each life claimed in a separate place
With loss of value and all respect

The Answer
Based on the Philip Wylie novella


High above the swirls of clouds,
Way above blue uncertain planet,
These two came falling through shrouds
Of mist, plunged their feet against granite

Very good Edgar!

or

High above the swirls of clouds,
Way above blue uncertain planet,
These two came falling through misty shrouds
as they plunged their feet against granite

I spend hours second guessing myself.

High above the swirls of clouds,
Way above blue uncertain planet,
These two came falling through shrouds
Of mist, to concrete and to granite,
Splayed, winged like two birds of flight,

Sounds good!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
High above the swirls of clouds,
Way above blue uncertain planet,
These two came falling through shrouds
Of mist, to concrete and to granite,
To lie, splayed, with limbs askew,
Shattered pinions; eyes are dead black holes:
One in early morning dew;

Good, keep going...

halo marking

High above the swirls of clouds,
Way above blue uncertain planet,
These two came falling through shrouds
Of mist, to concrete and to granite,
To lie, splayed, with limbs askew,
Shattered pinions; eyes are dead black holes:
One in early morning dew;

Edgar

It seems to me that the use of "high above" and "way above" is somewhat trite.

"blue, uncertain planet" is nice, and I like the rhyming flow with "Of mist, to concrete and to granite."

Similarly, "shrouds of mist" is a fairly stock phrase and one which doesn't seem to fit. Presumably the angelic creatures are alive while they plummet to earth. It doesn't really follow that they would fall through "shrouds."

I don't know the story that is your inspiration, but might you want to touch on their sense of fear, expectation, joy...as they fall?

I'm not fond of "askew" and finding an alternative will free you from "morning dew."

I have admired some of your writing on Abuzz and I hope you will take these words in the spirit in which they are intended - constructively.

I may be full of baloney in what I've written, but I don't intend to offend.

Finn
The work is in a preliminary stage; every word is subject to change before the final construct. As I said in the introduction, I am slow as wallpaper and it often takes me months to come to a resolution. I knew I was putting myself too far out there with what is essentially a private process. Just wanted to experiment to see what would ultimamtely come of it.