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Quiet Thunder
At Flight Camp, Thunderlane’s disgrace:
The little colt had lost the race
To Rainbow Dash, who’d made a dare.
“I bet I’m fastest in the air!”
Poor Thunderlane, whose mind had swallowed
The Wonderbolts: he’d promptly followed
His Dad’s advice to buck the norm
And take the pegasi by storm.
“Your grades,” said Dash, “might pass the test,
But everyone knows I’m the best.”
“Yeah right,” said Thunderlane. “But I
Don’t smash things up each time I fly.”
Yet Rainbow’s words soon had consumed
The Thunder’s thoughts, for he’d assumed
That pegasi were fighters first.
A loser? That was just the worst.
The second place held special terror.
To lose to gold: that was an error
No Wonderbolt could ever make.
And Thunderlane had made mistakes.
From that day forth, he made a vow
To make ‘em shriek and make ‘em wow.
First Flight Camp, then the weather team:
All service for poor Thunder’s dream.
He was a master of the shocks;
Could conjure lightning from his locks.
A thundercloud was just a squeak
Compared to Thunder at his peak.
For hurricanes, he was a champ,
His rain the terror of the camp.
But when it came to racing? No!
True, he made everyone look slow.
Except, of course, for someone flash,
A certain someone: Rainbow Dash!
To get kicked out of Camp so young
Meant nothing when she was one rung
Above the ladder Thunder gripped
Between his hooves. One day, he… flipped.
“‘But Rainbow did a Rainboom once!’
‘She’s inspiration for the runts!’
‘She saves the town of Ponyville!’
‘A sec with her’s an awesome thrill!’
‘Poor Thunderlane, he almost won,
Just when he’d thought the race was run.’”
And never mind that Thunder too
Was prone to sneaking off to do
Less awesome things like eat and sleep.
His pride was thin, his torment deep.
A silver medal on his chest,
Forever number two, not blessed
With greater things: old Thunder left
The clouds behind, his hope bereft.
Meandering, he soon came down
To Ponyville, a nearby town.
So full of ponies of the earth
He’d normally give a wider berth.
Instead, he landed by the stream
That caught his eye with summer’s gleam.
The weight of cottages behind,
He sank in gloom, dreams undermined.
“Hello there,” said a squeaky tone.
Though Thunderlane still felt alone,
He recognized small Fluttershy
Whose presence usually passed him by.
Surprisingly, old Thunder said,
“Quite nice down here.” (He thought it dead
Of interest). “Just not exciting.”
“But ponies here are more inviting.”
“How’s that?” he said, and she replied,
“Some ponies like to stay inside
And some of us care more for living,
Since life’s a gift that’s keeps on giving.”
“But where’s the rush of awesome speed?
And sometimes don’t you feel a need
To prove your skills and make the most
Of flying, soaring, things to boast
About?” He shrugged. So Fluttershy
Showed him a flying butterfly
And said, “Yes, animals compete
But other things make life complete.
A moment’s beauty flowing by,
The cadence of a lullaby,
The fruiting of a farmer’s patience,
The meditations of the ancients…”
“This sounds like all New Agey-stuff.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “It isn’t guff.
I think you should give this a chance…
If that’s okay?” She looked askance.
Well at the time, old Thunder shrugged,
And flew away, but those words bugged
His mind throughout the airborne trip.
Could he afford to let this slip?
So over time, he came to see
What made the earthen ponies free
Of worries that imprisoned him,
But evidence was rather slim.
At least until he watched the swarm
Of butterflies, and strangely warm
Inside his chest, the joy leaked out
And gave small Flutter’s words some clout.
He listened to the Ponytones,
Famed singers, from the baritone
Of McIntosh, and Rarity,
Whose cadence rang with verity.
He watched the Apples brave the muck
And with some water, time, and luck,
Produce a rain of ripe red fruit.
In awe, the insight left him mute.
For all the time there’d been no rush,
No madness; just a careful hush,
A sense that something greater loomed
And fed, and loved, and grew, and bloomed.
So Thunderlane, while never first,
No longer thought himself the worst.
Although he made the Wonder team,
He was no hostage to his dream.
Thus in-between his thunderous storms,
He took a slightly quieter form
And watched the earth, paid his respects,
And took the time to just… reflect.
The little colt had lost the race
To Rainbow Dash, who’d made a dare.
“I bet I’m fastest in the air!”
Poor Thunderlane, whose mind had swallowed
The Wonderbolts: he’d promptly followed
His Dad’s advice to buck the norm
And take the pegasi by storm.
“Your grades,” said Dash, “might pass the test,
But everyone knows I’m the best.”
“Yeah right,” said Thunderlane. “But I
Don’t smash things up each time I fly.”
Yet Rainbow’s words soon had consumed
The Thunder’s thoughts, for he’d assumed
That pegasi were fighters first.
A loser? That was just the worst.
The second place held special terror.
To lose to gold: that was an error
No Wonderbolt could ever make.
And Thunderlane had made mistakes.
From that day forth, he made a vow
To make ‘em shriek and make ‘em wow.
First Flight Camp, then the weather team:
All service for poor Thunder’s dream.
He was a master of the shocks;
Could conjure lightning from his locks.
A thundercloud was just a squeak
Compared to Thunder at his peak.
For hurricanes, he was a champ,
His rain the terror of the camp.
But when it came to racing? No!
True, he made everyone look slow.
Except, of course, for someone flash,
A certain someone: Rainbow Dash!
To get kicked out of Camp so young
Meant nothing when she was one rung
Above the ladder Thunder gripped
Between his hooves. One day, he… flipped.
“‘But Rainbow did a Rainboom once!’
‘She’s inspiration for the runts!’
‘She saves the town of Ponyville!’
‘A sec with her’s an awesome thrill!’
‘Poor Thunderlane, he almost won,
Just when he’d thought the race was run.’”
And never mind that Thunder too
Was prone to sneaking off to do
Less awesome things like eat and sleep.
His pride was thin, his torment deep.
A silver medal on his chest,
Forever number two, not blessed
With greater things: old Thunder left
The clouds behind, his hope bereft.
Meandering, he soon came down
To Ponyville, a nearby town.
So full of ponies of the earth
He’d normally give a wider berth.
Instead, he landed by the stream
That caught his eye with summer’s gleam.
The weight of cottages behind,
He sank in gloom, dreams undermined.
“Hello there,” said a squeaky tone.
Though Thunderlane still felt alone,
He recognized small Fluttershy
Whose presence usually passed him by.
Surprisingly, old Thunder said,
“Quite nice down here.” (He thought it dead
Of interest). “Just not exciting.”
“But ponies here are more inviting.”
“How’s that?” he said, and she replied,
“Some ponies like to stay inside
And some of us care more for living,
Since life’s a gift that’s keeps on giving.”
“But where’s the rush of awesome speed?
And sometimes don’t you feel a need
To prove your skills and make the most
Of flying, soaring, things to boast
About?” He shrugged. So Fluttershy
Showed him a flying butterfly
And said, “Yes, animals compete
But other things make life complete.
A moment’s beauty flowing by,
The cadence of a lullaby,
The fruiting of a farmer’s patience,
The meditations of the ancients…”
“This sounds like all New Agey-stuff.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “It isn’t guff.
I think you should give this a chance…
If that’s okay?” She looked askance.
Well at the time, old Thunder shrugged,
And flew away, but those words bugged
His mind throughout the airborne trip.
Could he afford to let this slip?
So over time, he came to see
What made the earthen ponies free
Of worries that imprisoned him,
But evidence was rather slim.
At least until he watched the swarm
Of butterflies, and strangely warm
Inside his chest, the joy leaked out
And gave small Flutter’s words some clout.
He listened to the Ponytones,
Famed singers, from the baritone
Of McIntosh, and Rarity,
Whose cadence rang with verity.
He watched the Apples brave the muck
And with some water, time, and luck,
Produce a rain of ripe red fruit.
In awe, the insight left him mute.
For all the time there’d been no rush,
No madness; just a careful hush,
A sense that something greater loomed
And fed, and loved, and grew, and bloomed.
So Thunderlane, while never first,
No longer thought himself the worst.
Although he made the Wonder team,
He was no hostage to his dream.
Thus in-between his thunderous storms,
He took a slightly quieter form
And watched the earth, paid his respects,
And took the time to just… reflect.
Pics
Very surprised you didn’t use Poor Thunder on “The Thunder’s thoughts, for he’d assumed.” You had a good theme going there.
In any case, poetry is always a risky endeavor in these contests. This one tried for style points, but didn’t quite get them. There are some shaky patches in the rhythm, and while I can appreciate thoughts straddling lines, stretching them between stanzas is a bit much. Plus, I’m not sure how well the chronology pans out. In all, this was a noble effort, but the execution left me wanting, and the story underneath wasn’t much to write home about. Good attempt.
In any case, poetry is always a risky endeavor in these contests. This one tried for style points, but didn’t quite get them. There are some shaky patches in the rhythm, and while I can appreciate thoughts straddling lines, stretching them between stanzas is a bit much. Plus, I’m not sure how well the chronology pans out. In all, this was a noble effort, but the execution left me wanting, and the story underneath wasn’t much to write home about. Good attempt.
I'll start off by saying that I don't know enough about poetry to jusdge this as accurately as it deserves, but I appluad your ambition. That being said, I do have an issue with this:
It doesn't work, and jarred me right out of the poem.
To prove your skills and make the most
Of flying, soaring, things to boast
About?” He shrugged. So Fluttershy
Showed him a flying butterfly
It doesn't work, and jarred me right out of the poem.
I'm not gonna be too hard and complain about the stanza-jumping, not least of all because poetry is not high on my resume. On the other hand, I can hardly give it a pass when using structure is the very point of making a poem, so you're guaranteed not to end up a top contender just for that alone. Sorry. It's part of the deal when you sign up for poetry. You pays your money and you takes your choice, and all that.
That said, getting past the rhyming and accenting and all that, the actual story is pleasant. Thunderlane resents being second to Rainbow, and that "curse of the second place" thing is easy to sympathize with. It's nice you filled in a bit of the reasoning, such as his Dad's encouragement and his excellence in other departments. I also quite like his chat with Flutters (though "meditations of the ancients..."? Has she met Treehugger by now, then?). It's not a pair you see interacting very often, and I love that.
The "slowing down and appreciating beauty" thing I kinda like too. Especially in a competitive environment, it is nice to appreciate a much more laid-back and even kinda... spiritual angle? It's trite as hell, but I don't care when it's done well enough here. I do think it could've come into play earlier and felt more like a struggle or a choice, but it's still a nice way to end.
Maybe this should've been done in prose, because there's no obvious reason to make a poem out of this story. It also doesn't feel particularly ambitious or deep. I'll call it a tentative solid entry, but at the lower end of that rank, because it's at least a sugary sweet read and I really, really dig "poor Thunder's" conflict.
That said, getting past the rhyming and accenting and all that, the actual story is pleasant. Thunderlane resents being second to Rainbow, and that "curse of the second place" thing is easy to sympathize with. It's nice you filled in a bit of the reasoning, such as his Dad's encouragement and his excellence in other departments. I also quite like his chat with Flutters (though "meditations of the ancients..."? Has she met Treehugger by now, then?). It's not a pair you see interacting very often, and I love that.
The "slowing down and appreciating beauty" thing I kinda like too. Especially in a competitive environment, it is nice to appreciate a much more laid-back and even kinda... spiritual angle? It's trite as hell, but I don't care when it's done well enough here. I do think it could've come into play earlier and felt more like a struggle or a choice, but it's still a nice way to end.
Maybe this should've been done in prose, because there's no obvious reason to make a poem out of this story. It also doesn't feel particularly ambitious or deep. I'll call it a tentative solid entry, but at the lower end of that rank, because it's at least a sugary sweet read and I really, really dig "poor Thunder's" conflict.
Another poem. Another one. Another one.
Another one.
I'm going to try and hold back my intense bitterness, because I do think there's an actually decent story buried under all this... stuff. I like Thunderlane as a character, and especially after seeing what he's really like in that one episode of the show I knew I'd like him even more.
The story develops him well enough, and it shows us how he started off as competitive like Rainbow Dash and by the end became more laid back like Fluttershy.
But aside from Thunderlane being Our Guy, and some little details thrown in there, there's not much to chew on here without acknowledging the format in which this story is told.
I don't know why this is a poem. I don't know why this story was told in this way. The only reason I can think of is so that the author could cram a lot of events into a short amount of space, since narrative poems aren't usually as detailed and long-winded as prose ones, and you can cover a lot of ground that way.
But the format doesn't do the story itself any justice, or favors for that matter. I kept being distracted by how basic and even wonky at times the rhyme scheme is, and there are a lot of word choices that made me scratch my head.
Obviously writing a whole story, even a 750-word one, in this format requires a good deal of commitment and at least some knowledge of rhythm and rhyme schemes, but I don't think it paid off.
I'm feeling a decent to strong 5 on this.
Another one.
I'm going to try and hold back my intense bitterness, because I do think there's an actually decent story buried under all this... stuff. I like Thunderlane as a character, and especially after seeing what he's really like in that one episode of the show I knew I'd like him even more.
The story develops him well enough, and it shows us how he started off as competitive like Rainbow Dash and by the end became more laid back like Fluttershy.
But aside from Thunderlane being Our Guy, and some little details thrown in there, there's not much to chew on here without acknowledging the format in which this story is told.
I don't know why this is a poem. I don't know why this story was told in this way. The only reason I can think of is so that the author could cram a lot of events into a short amount of space, since narrative poems aren't usually as detailed and long-winded as prose ones, and you can cover a lot of ground that way.
But the format doesn't do the story itself any justice, or favors for that matter. I kept being distracted by how basic and even wonky at times the rhyme scheme is, and there are a lot of word choices that made me scratch my head.
Obviously writing a whole story, even a 750-word one, in this format requires a good deal of commitment and at least some knowledge of rhythm and rhyme schemes, but I don't think it paid off.
I'm feeling a decent to strong 5 on this.
Well, I liked it. It does have some shaky spots, sure, but I liked it. And I'm not normally one for poetry.
This is nice. I thought it would feel overlong as a poem but there's enough of a story (and message!) in there to make it worth the trip.
You sometimes go off syllable count on the last line. A couple of examples:
Drop the "a", or else change it to "norm'ly".
Try "often" instead.
There are some other examples but you can proof them yourself.
You sometimes go off syllable count on the last line. A couple of examples:
He’d normally give a wider berth.
Drop the "a", or else change it to "norm'ly".
Whose presence usually passed him by.
Try "often" instead.
There are some other examples but you can proof them yourself.
I always feel a bit uncomfortable with critiquing poetry because I honest-to-crap can't write it myself. But my two cents would be to focus on your meter. Managing the beat/stresses is just as important as syllable count and rhyme scheme, and it can really make the difference between getting completely engrossed in a poem or finding a reason to be pulled out of one every few stanzas. And while you do maintain a strong iambic beat for most of the poem, several lines just didn't feel right to me, and knocked me out of the flow. A few examples:
I know that there is a degree of subjectivity, but I read the bold/underscored lines as stressed, which threw off the iambic beat that virtually every other line followed.
As for the plot itself, I thought it was solid and serviceable, and I especially enjoyed the final line. But I can't help but feel that other than this moment, it never really takes advantage of the fact that it's a poem. Poetry is all about playing with the tight rules and making clever things happen despite the predictable cadence of the words. Maybe Only, Only, Only You and Only, Only, Only Me have spoiled me, but Quiet Thunder did read somewhat plainly to me.
Again, take everything I've written with a big helping of salt because I'm the kind of person who'd basically never try my hand at poetry. In the end, I think I like what you're going for, but I had trouble enjoying the ride along the way.
At Flight Camp, Thunderlane’s disgrace:
But everyone knows I’m the best.
First Flight Camp, then the weather team:
I know that there is a degree of subjectivity, but I read the bold/underscored lines as stressed, which threw off the iambic beat that virtually every other line followed.
As for the plot itself, I thought it was solid and serviceable, and I especially enjoyed the final line. But I can't help but feel that other than this moment, it never really takes advantage of the fact that it's a poem. Poetry is all about playing with the tight rules and making clever things happen despite the predictable cadence of the words. Maybe Only, Only, Only You and Only, Only, Only Me have spoiled me, but Quiet Thunder did read somewhat plainly to me.
Again, take everything I've written with a big helping of salt because I'm the kind of person who'd basically never try my hand at poetry. In the end, I think I like what you're going for, but I had trouble enjoying the ride along the way.
The plot is sound, though it is kinda weird that you keep referring to him as 'Old Thunderlane' and the story takes place before the return of Night Mare Moon(?). With all this talk of flight camp I think this is happening early in the series, especially with Thunderlane first meeting Fluttershy, but then there's the talk of Rainbow saving ponyville. Why would Thunderlane ever stop by ponyville if he had such a problem with Dash?
Two critiques I had were that the thoughts would sometimes spill over everywhere and the tempo got a little wonky at times.
Several times a thought would bleed into the next line, or even stanza, and the pace would get interrupted. A really good example was from the line that started with About?” He shrugged. So Fluttershy. I stumbled so hard on that line and spent almost a minute puzzling out that it was referring to the previous stanza. Each paragraph suggests that unit is self contained and when that is broken on occasion rather than as a consistently it brought me out of the rhythm.
Breaking that down even further, is sort of it's own thought. One stanza went:
"The second place held special terror.
To lose to gold: that was an error
No Wonderbolt could ever make.
And Thunderlane had made mistakes.
When I read it there's a pause between error and No that naturally occurs because of the way poetry is normally read, but breaks the story's continuity.
In addition, many of the lines seem to hitch in the middle. The lines rhyme and mostly work in meter, the tempo will space out for a moment if you're speaking them out loud. The line First Flight Camp, then the weather team: has had me stumbling every time I try to say it.
Two critiques I had were that the thoughts would sometimes spill over everywhere and the tempo got a little wonky at times.
Several times a thought would bleed into the next line, or even stanza, and the pace would get interrupted. A really good example was from the line that started with About?” He shrugged. So Fluttershy. I stumbled so hard on that line and spent almost a minute puzzling out that it was referring to the previous stanza. Each paragraph suggests that unit is self contained and when that is broken on occasion rather than as a consistently it brought me out of the rhythm.
Breaking that down even further, is sort of it's own thought. One stanza went:
"The second place held special terror.
To lose to gold: that was an error
No Wonderbolt could ever make.
And Thunderlane had made mistakes.
When I read it there's a pause between error and No that naturally occurs because of the way poetry is normally read, but breaks the story's continuity.
In addition, many of the lines seem to hitch in the middle. The lines rhyme and mostly work in meter, the tempo will space out for a moment if you're speaking them out loud. The line First Flight Camp, then the weather team: has had me stumbling every time I try to say it.
Welp, pretty much from the moment comments started pouring in, I figured this was on a hiding to nothing. A pity, but I did pays my money and takes my choice, after all.
>>FanOfMostEverything
Now you mention it, "Poor Thunder" would have worked much more consistently.
>>FanOfMostEverything
>>axxuy
>>MrExtra
No arguments here: I think what killed this structurally was the decision to divide it up into stanzas to begin with. In the original draft, the whole thing was divided up quite neatly into self-contained stanzas until I realized I had to cut certain sections to keep to the word limit. I was either going to combine it into one long poem, or stick to the stanza format and grit my teeth. I thought the former would be more visually off-putting because it would've been a wall of text.
In hindsight, I clearly made the wrong call (I make no apology for the "run-on lines" or enjambement itself, which is a perfectly serviceable and useful poetic technique, but it didn't play well with the new stanza scheme at all).
>>FanOfMostEverything
>>MrExtra
Regarding the chronology, I was a bit hazy myself, but I vaguely had the idea that this was before he applied for the Wonderbolt Academy in Season Three, especially since he doesn't actually show up before "Hurricane Fluttershy".
Also, he goes to Ponyville because, basically, it's not Cloudsdale. The implication was that all this praise came from fellow pegasi, and he just wanted to get away from all that and go somewhere civilized, nearby, and not pegasus-dominant.
>>FanOfMostEverything
"and the story underneath wasn’t much to write home about."
Aw man, you're breaking my heart. (Sheds single tear)
>>axxuy
"but I appluad your ambition"
Thanks! Even if it didn't work out...
>>No_Raisin
I will pay for your therapy, comrade.
Now, I could say something smart, like I was deliberately going for a young reader's style with the simple rhyme scheme and unfussy iambic tetrameter (I grew up on Roald Dahl's Revolting Rhymes, which use the form) and attached a straightforward tale about dealing with sucking (a surprisingly rare theme in fiction). But really I wrote a poem because I was experimental and I wanted to write a poem.
In my world, prose and poetry are just choices of style. I use prose more often, sure, but I don't require as many special reasons for poetry as most people do (this may be a character flaw). Poetry is, in my mind, word music. The fact that poetry is a matter of taste kind of saddens me - once an elevated art form, it now seems to have connotations of pretentiousness and old-fashioned groan-worthiness, which breaks my literary heart, so it does - but ah well, I knew the risks.
I truly am disappointed the metric scheme didn't go as well as I'd hoped. And apart from the occasional feminine rhyme, I don't feel as guilty about the simple/simplistic rhyme scheme.
As for anything actionable here... I was going to say "don't write poems again", but A) I'm not bowing down to one person's tastes, as much as I respect they have their own opinion, B) practice makes perfect, or at least less cringeworthy, and C) damnit, Baal proved it could work last time.
At least you liked the story. There's that.
"I'm feeling a decent to strong 5 on this."
Considering what some of the others got... Ouch.
>>MLPmatthewl419
>>Trick_Question
Finally! Someone who actually likes it! And I was all set to write this one off as a complete loss.
>>Trick_Question
I guess my only defence is that my inner voice glides over the middle syllables in "normally" and "usually" so that they sound like "norm'ly" and "us'ly" anyway, but I see where you're coming from. Something I will act upon next time I try something like this. Thanks!
>>Bachiavellian
>>MrExtra
All right, I grant you "Flight Camp" is actually a spondee (FLIGHT CAMP) and not, as I'd initially assumed, a trochee (FLIGHT camp). Maybe I should ignore the show and go for "FLIGHT school" instead?
>>Bachiavellian
That said, since when was it "DISgrace" and not "disGRACE"? And your second example is easy to solve: emphasize "EVERYONE" and not "KNOWS" (I don't understand how this didn't register).
I'll sport one or two cockups, but I did manage the beats/stresses as much as I managed the rhyme and syllable count.
Nevertheless, thank you overall for the critical feedback. No need to feel uncomfortable: poetry is not usual for me either, and every comment helps to get an idea of how it's coming across. You're not the only one who had problems with the structure, so it's becoming clear that I've made mistakes that need addressing.
>>MrExtra
"Old" strikes me as just a generic term of endearment. If you use it on a young person, it also has a hint of playful irony ("Oh, you silly old thing!" Cue indulgent smile). Probably just me, I guess? But I digress...
I won't make any excuses for the '"About?" He shrugged...' line. Splitting this up into stanzas was a terrible move. That said, I don't see anything wrong with the "error" line. If anything, it flows well, or at least that's how it looks to me, since "no wonderbolt could ever make" is a complete subordinate clause, so giving it its own line means it scans naturally. If you look at poetry through the ages, practically everyone used enjambement as a way to stop things getting hopelessly limited by ending every line. Or else I'm missing something in your critique, because I get the impression it's maybe not the enjambement specifically which bothers you about the line?
Overall, an experiment that didn't take, and clearly poetry here is more trouble than it's worth. Points to consider for the future, all, and thanks again for the useful (if not necessarily cheering) feedback. Valuable information indeed.
>>FanOfMostEverything
Now you mention it, "Poor Thunder" would have worked much more consistently.
>>FanOfMostEverything
>>axxuy
>>MrExtra
No arguments here: I think what killed this structurally was the decision to divide it up into stanzas to begin with. In the original draft, the whole thing was divided up quite neatly into self-contained stanzas until I realized I had to cut certain sections to keep to the word limit. I was either going to combine it into one long poem, or stick to the stanza format and grit my teeth. I thought the former would be more visually off-putting because it would've been a wall of text.
In hindsight, I clearly made the wrong call (I make no apology for the "run-on lines" or enjambement itself, which is a perfectly serviceable and useful poetic technique, but it didn't play well with the new stanza scheme at all).
>>FanOfMostEverything
>>MrExtra
Regarding the chronology, I was a bit hazy myself, but I vaguely had the idea that this was before he applied for the Wonderbolt Academy in Season Three, especially since he doesn't actually show up before "Hurricane Fluttershy".
Also, he goes to Ponyville because, basically, it's not Cloudsdale. The implication was that all this praise came from fellow pegasi, and he just wanted to get away from all that and go somewhere civilized, nearby, and not pegasus-dominant.
>>FanOfMostEverything
"and the story underneath wasn’t much to write home about."
Aw man, you're breaking my heart. (Sheds single tear)
>>axxuy
"but I appluad your ambition"
Thanks! Even if it didn't work out...
>>No_Raisin
I will pay for your therapy, comrade.
Now, I could say something smart, like I was deliberately going for a young reader's style with the simple rhyme scheme and unfussy iambic tetrameter (I grew up on Roald Dahl's Revolting Rhymes, which use the form) and attached a straightforward tale about dealing with sucking (a surprisingly rare theme in fiction). But really I wrote a poem because I was experimental and I wanted to write a poem.
In my world, prose and poetry are just choices of style. I use prose more often, sure, but I don't require as many special reasons for poetry as most people do (this may be a character flaw). Poetry is, in my mind, word music. The fact that poetry is a matter of taste kind of saddens me - once an elevated art form, it now seems to have connotations of pretentiousness and old-fashioned groan-worthiness, which breaks my literary heart, so it does - but ah well, I knew the risks.
I truly am disappointed the metric scheme didn't go as well as I'd hoped. And apart from the occasional feminine rhyme, I don't feel as guilty about the simple/simplistic rhyme scheme.
As for anything actionable here... I was going to say "don't write poems again", but A) I'm not bowing down to one person's tastes, as much as I respect they have their own opinion, B) practice makes perfect, or at least less cringeworthy, and C) damnit, Baal proved it could work last time.
At least you liked the story. There's that.
"I'm feeling a decent to strong 5 on this."
Considering what some of the others got... Ouch.
>>MLPmatthewl419
>>Trick_Question
Finally! Someone who actually likes it! And I was all set to write this one off as a complete loss.
>>Trick_Question
I guess my only defence is that my inner voice glides over the middle syllables in "normally" and "usually" so that they sound like "norm'ly" and "us'ly" anyway, but I see where you're coming from. Something I will act upon next time I try something like this. Thanks!
>>Bachiavellian
>>MrExtra
All right, I grant you "Flight Camp" is actually a spondee (FLIGHT CAMP) and not, as I'd initially assumed, a trochee (FLIGHT camp). Maybe I should ignore the show and go for "FLIGHT school" instead?
>>Bachiavellian
That said, since when was it "DISgrace" and not "disGRACE"? And your second example is easy to solve: emphasize "EVERYONE" and not "KNOWS" (I don't understand how this didn't register).
I'll sport one or two cockups, but I did manage the beats/stresses as much as I managed the rhyme and syllable count.
Nevertheless, thank you overall for the critical feedback. No need to feel uncomfortable: poetry is not usual for me either, and every comment helps to get an idea of how it's coming across. You're not the only one who had problems with the structure, so it's becoming clear that I've made mistakes that need addressing.
>>MrExtra
"Old" strikes me as just a generic term of endearment. If you use it on a young person, it also has a hint of playful irony ("Oh, you silly old thing!" Cue indulgent smile). Probably just me, I guess? But I digress...
I won't make any excuses for the '"About?" He shrugged...' line. Splitting this up into stanzas was a terrible move. That said, I don't see anything wrong with the "error" line. If anything, it flows well, or at least that's how it looks to me, since "no wonderbolt could ever make" is a complete subordinate clause, so giving it its own line means it scans naturally. If you look at poetry through the ages, practically everyone used enjambement as a way to stop things getting hopelessly limited by ending every line. Or else I'm missing something in your critique, because I get the impression it's maybe not the enjambement specifically which bothers you about the line?
Overall, an experiment that didn't take, and clearly poetry here is more trouble than it's worth. Points to consider for the future, all, and thanks again for the useful (if not necessarily cheering) feedback. Valuable information indeed.
>>BlueChameleonVI
I'll admit, I'm probably an outlier. I've talked in the past about how neither of my parents are native English speakers. So I feel like every once in a while, I'm discovering that I've been pronouncing words wrong all my life.
For instance, I think I pronounced it NOCturnal instead of nocTURnal until I was like 14.
I'll admit, I'm probably an outlier. I've talked in the past about how neither of my parents are native English speakers. So I feel like every once in a while, I'm discovering that I've been pronouncing words wrong all my life.
For instance, I think I pronounced it NOCturnal instead of nocTURnal until I was like 14.
Huh. Fancy that. I was expecting this to be in the bottom quarter, so to get 25th place out of 39 isn't too shabby. Still not me at my best, but we live and learn.
>>Bachiavellian
I would have pegged you as a native speaker if you hadn't said that. You've been hiding it awfully well, me old china. Although a young kid saying NOCturnal is adorably amusing, haha!
>>Bachiavellian
I would have pegged you as a native speaker if you hadn't said that. You've been hiding it awfully well, me old china. Although a young kid saying NOCturnal is adorably amusing, haha!
>>BlueChameleonVI
Oh, English is my first language; I'm just saying I learned it from second-hand sources. I spent a lot of my childhood in places where most people were not native speakers.
Oh, English is my first language; I'm just saying I learned it from second-hand sources. I spent a lot of my childhood in places where most people were not native speakers.