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Blue Ridge

I don’t come from the Rockies.
The mighty Himalayas are as foreign as Olympus Mons.
My mountains are the crooked slope
Of an ancient granny’s back as she stoops to shell beans.

Gentle and sheltering, my mountains
Weave a world of silent mist,
Insular and serene.
These weathered peaks have laid down to rest.

My mountains have felt eons melt before them
Like the last snow of winter,
Flowing through the valleys and coves,
Etching out a new future for the land.

These mountains can be as verdant and fecund as any rainforest,
Replete with the chorus of life.
But sometimes they are the ragged teeth of a saw blade,
Rending the underbellies of ponderous clouds.

Bones of iron support this land of stone.
Massive monuments to violent volcanism,
A dystopian past of primordial birth,
Whose legacy is carved into the craggy faces of my people.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 


your poem was great, but I'm wondering where your mountains are? The question doesn't seem to be answered in your poem. Instead of [This land] I would say "These mountains" as you seem to be speaking about them being sharp enough to rip out the underbellies of the clouds. I think that it has a fine beginning and would love to see how it turns out. ~ Geezer

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every other Saturday night 8pm to ?
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I'm from the Blue Ridge Mountains in Western North Carolina. It's part of the larger Appalachian chain. Here is a picture of my valley (behind the center mountain) from the National parks service. It is taken from the Blue Ridge Parkway.

author comment

I didn't figure that out. I went to see your mountains and they are just as gorgeous as I remember them, oh so many years ago, when I passed through them on my way south. Now, I get the "bones of iron part. If I am correct, there are iron mines there? Anyhow, nice work. ~ Geezer.

Come to Chat on the Darkside
every other Saturday night 8pm to ?
Bring your dark and delicious work
to show.

as soon as i read the title which mountains you speak of. One of the oldest ranges in the world. I know the extinct Australian mountains are older. And once a mountain as tall as Everest soared on the northern part. My family sprang from the base of the blue ridge and I am thus qualified to say your descriptions are spot on........stan

I'm glad that my imagery resonates with you. Even though I now live in the Midlands of SC, I miss home sometimes.

author comment

As I live in DC I have often visited the National Park with part of these mountains, the only one east of the Mississippi. And I've visited various spots on the chain, This is a great poem to describe it, great show of the love of words. A really fine work!

My only comment is the occasional meter break in the line. Although there is not a specific syllable count there is a "feeling" of the lines as we read them, a sense of flow of somewhat short and slightly longer, lines, that create a sort of internal logic. To me the longest lines stand out;. For example, I would shorted this line to:
These mountains can be as verdant as any rainforest,

Also, in this very powerful imagery of the finish, I find the last line too extended:

Bones of iron support this land of stone.
Massive monuments to violent volcanism,
A dystopian past of primordial birth,
Whose legacy is carved into the craggy faces of my people.

The poem is written in as free verse in 4 lines to a stanza, but the last line i think needs to be slightly shortened or added to creating a 5th line.

This is such a well worked poem which shows considerable maturity as an artist. I am just offering these minor things, as that is also the purpose of this site.
Lastly I appreciate that we are on the same side on the "Cap the first letter of a line" debate.

I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

I really appreciate the constructive criticism. That is, after all, the purpose of Neo. In the morning, when I'm less tired, I'll see to those corrections. As for the caps debate, I generally like the lines to be capitalized, but if I feel the poem "feels" better with lower case letters, I'll do that. However 90% of the time I like the capitals.

author comment

I was kinda hoping your "mountains" was going to end up something other than,,,,, "Mountains".
Thought the first two lines added very little to the piece; Having said that, I really enjoyed the poem.


I love the mountains. Haven't been since 2014 and before then the first time I went was 1998. I'm a beach and river kind of girl myself, but the mountains are an adventure. I think that's that part of North Carolina that spoils people. You can get from the beach to the mountains so quickly. Ireland is the same. There are magnificent cliffs there, so ocean and mountain can be side by side. The countryside is fantastic there and here too, so Ireland will probably always be my home away from home.

I can't suggest anything; Eumolpus already said it all. Lovely homage.

Take care,

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This was a fuel like no other
A feather love me down hard work of
gifts of mastery

Robin Renewal smiles came about
so willing and substantial Awwi
Her Eightfold path of wisdom
Like a fire phoenix Peacock birth
of the Kingdom. So pure thoughts of

His eyes winged her Imagery
Belladonna feathers and family gathers
Next one Madonna more feathers they lather
The White Peacock of the Nirvana
Here comes Ladybird Oh! Donna
One chosen Bird called Prima Donna
Roaring waters to feather their soul
Then bam crash Kaboom lost control
Then a thump what happens a race
with Peacocks and Forestal Palace
of Gump, a box came a hoot some loot
a screech Madonna didn't preach
Then an Arabian Shiek
The peacock feel in love
"Ever-Smiling" Spiritual place to seek

Speaking as a humble native of the land of the mighty Himalayas, your evocative poem paints a poignant picture and mountains make for majestic, mystical, magical memories. Well expressed.

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