[John Riley]

Clifftop

Hanging from the clifftop,
pink fingers grasping
crumbling dry rocks,
I have no pity for myself.
I am not the only frail thing.
Soon it will be night.
Below, the systematic waves
sound like warriors
crossing the horizon.
If I fall the sky will recede.
Stars will fly from my eyes
and speed to where
planets worship the spin
of their own existence.
To die here will not
make me a saint
like the giant brass one
standing on the clifftop,
turned away from the sea
to stare over the broad land.

[Carl Copeland]

John, as you know, I don’t trust myself to critique non-met. Meter gives me an easy handgrip and draws me in, whether I’m ready or not. To appreciate something like this, I have to be in the right mood. Tonight I am.

You must have the Buddhist “Tiger and Strawberry” parable in mind, except that there’s no refuge in the moment here. Just an unflinching awareness of mortality. The heart of the poem for me is “I have no pity for myself. / I am not the only frail thing. / Soon it will be night.”

“Systematic” really sticks out for me, like a piece from a different puzzle. I’m sure the word is chosen deliberately, and I’m trying to figure out why. BTW, you might put a comma after “Below” to prevent “Below the systematic waves” from being misread as a prepositional phrase, but I read it correctly straight off, which is unusual for me.

I like “Stars will fly from my eyes,” but I’m not sure what it means for them to “speed to where planets worship the spin of their own existence.” It’s not something I need an explanation for, just thought you’d like to know.

I love the way the giant brass saint is “turned away from the sea.” It could mean that he’s focusing attention away from the reality of death, but the N, clinging to the cliffside, isn’t facing the sea either and yet is very aware. “Cliffside” can be one word, btw, but that’s up to you.

I’m in the right mood tonight, and this poem resonates with me.

[John Riley]

Thanks for looking in Carl. I fixed the missing comma. I am pleased you appreciate what is attempted with the imagery and expressions.

In light of some of the conversations here recently, I want to take a solid look at what I post. To avoid obnoxious defensiveness because it ruins the benefit that can come from posting a poem for critique. After reading your comment and my own thinking, I come away being reminded, yet again, that what I'll call metaphysics, for lack of a better word, is difficult to write about without coming across like a Marvel comic. I don't think the eye stars and planets escape this trap. I know nothing about the world of Marvel or other such movies--I find them tedious--but I can envision one of their brightly uniformed characters sending stars from his eyes. It would be for his rescue, which isn't true here, but the imagery matches.

So, as I said about other poems, the issue here may be in the conception. Can I find a fresher, more startling image, or do I learn from it and move on? This is the benefit of posting.

Thanks

[Carl Copeland]

Originally Posted by John Riley

I can envision one of their brightly uniformed characters sending stars from his eyes.

“Eye stars”! Now I see I completely misunderstood the image. I thought the stars would fly away from your eyes along with the receding sky. But if anything can possibly be misconstrued, I do it, so you may want to wait for input on this from others.

[Nick McRae]

Originally Posted by John Riley

Cliff Side

Hanging from a cliff,
pink fingers grasp
crumbling dry rock.
I have no pity for myself.
I am not the only frail thing.
Soon it will be night,
the systematic waves
will sound like warriors
crossing the horizon.
If I fall the sky will recede.
Stars will fly from my eyes
and speed to where
planets worship the spin
of their own existence.
To die here will not
make me a saint,
like the giant brass one
standing on the cliff peak,
turned away from the sea
to stare over broad land.

John,

I don't have too many grand thoughts, and could go either way on my changes, but the blue highlights are another way you could write it. I also removed 'the' from 'to stare over the broad land'. Again, I could go either way on this change.

On the whole I feel that you communicated this one effectively, so I think any further changes would be your call, wherever you wanted to take it.

[Nick McRae]

Originally Posted by John Riley

Can I find a fresher, more startling image, or do I learn from it and move on? This is the benefit of posting.

FWIW, stars worked for me here.

I'm starting to pick up the thought that there's a kind of arms race in poetry to always write the most vivid and striking poem. If that's your thing and what you like doing, more power, and beautiful poems can come from that. But IMO it sometimes ends up coming across as over the top, and the imagery undermines the poem's ability to say anything that's actually interesting.

So 'stars', sure it's maybe a little bit stale, but for me it worked here in helping paint the larger picture of the poem. And sometimes simpler, more common words are effective at doing that. If you overdid it and looked for something more striking I think it would just distract from the larger picture.

Not every poem has to blow the reader out of the water, some can just be what they are. To me you communicated a very concrete feeling here, which is what I enjoyed about it. No overly striking words needed.

[Cally Conan-Davies]

John,

This is a fine, made thing. It feels like something I could hold, like a painting. It all works for me as a whole, like a dream image. A dream landscape. Essential. I can feel the cliff against my own fingers, hear the sea, feel the cosmic implications. The stars from the eyes are like the essence escaping (we are stardust) at the moment of death/transformation. This is a poem I can be with.

One thing: the only word choice I wonder about is "cliff peak". It could also be 'clifftop', which would have a nice sound resonance with "to die here will not". Just a thought!

Vivid.

Cally

[John Riley]

Thanks, Nick and Cally.

Sorry for the slow response. I'm two weeks out from the knee replacement. Then, this morning, to add to the fun, I poked my eye with my fingernail and tore the cornea. I can only keep it open for seconds.

Nick, your suggestions are helpful. They're the type I have to think about. I've copied them.

Cally, I'm very pleased you like it. I think of it as a minor thing but seeing it as an object, a painting, is what I strive for. I'm tired of poems being figured out. Look, admire or not, hopefully, take it with you in your mind. Understanding is destructive. *I changed it to "clifftop." Great nit.

Thanks, again

[W T Clark]

This is really wonderful: John. There's nothing else to say. Man or lichen: the narrator has a supreme moment of comprehension. I truly admire this enormously.

[Roger Slater]

I like this overall, but I have a few thoughts which I'll share for what they're worth.

Originally Posted by John Riley

Clifftop

Hanging from the clifftop,
pink fingers grasping
crumbling dry rocks,
I have no pity for myself.
I am not the only frail thing.
Soon it will be night. Maybe lose this line? It just seems very familiar and overdone to use impending nightfall metaphorically. I sometimes like it, as in Dylan's "not dark yet, but it's getting there," but I'm not sure you need it.
Below, the systematic waves
sound like warriors
crossing the horizon. Maybe cut this line? Isn't "sound like warriors" enough without making me wonder what special sound the warriors would make if they were crossing the horizon?
If I fall the sky will recede.
Stars will fly from my eyes Did you intend to invoke the familiar expression "stars in my eyes", in the sense of naive hopefulness? I suspect not, but for me it's at the surface nonetheless.
and speed to where
planets worship the spin Maybe make it "their spin" or "their own spin" and end line with a period, then delete the next line.
of their own existence.
To die here will not
make me a saint
like the giant brass one
standing on the clifftop, Since you are already on the clifftop from the first line, maybe acknowledge that somehow? "Standing beside me on the clifftop" kind of thing? I'm also wondering why the speaker is hanging on by his fingers to crumbling dry rocks, but the brass saint seems to be on solid ground, all happening on the same clifftop.
turned away from the sea
to stare over the broad land.