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THE EMPTY GLENS (FINAL VERSION)

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THE EMPTY GLENS
1795
There's a tall ship in the harbour,
Waiting for the evening tide,
Dewdrops fall, like tears, from rigging,
Weeping for my clan's lost pride.

Morning mist lies on the water,
Footprints fading in wet sand.
I am boarding with my kinsmen
Never more to see this land.

In the glen our houses burning,
As the Earl's men torch the roofs,
Burnt - out ruins scar the landscape,
How will others find the truth?

I can feel my heart is breaking,
I am desolate - no hope,
Stumbling down the gangplank, running
To my house, now wreathed in smoke.

Hidden in the thatch, my broadsword.
In my hand I heft its weight
Cut down two red - coated escorts
But I'm shot by those I hate.

On my back, I look at blue skies,
As my life's blood flows away,
And I smile as I am dying
In my glen now I will stay....

1920
So was told to me this story.
Of great- great-grandfather's death,
I have vowed to have revenge ,
Though it takes my dying breath.

I am ready for the battle,
I fear nothing but to fail.
In this Glen the Earl hunts red deer,
Unaware I'm on his trail.

Walking through the gorse and heather,
I see a gathering of cars,
Mainly Model "T"s (Tin Lizzies)
Means the Earl cannot be far.

I approach and guards surround me
Demand to know from whence I came.
Keeping my head lowered I tell them
"Anywhere my kin calls hame."

Guards part ranks as Earl approaches,
At last he's face to face with me.
In his hands, his stalking rifle.
(A new Lee-Enfield, three-oh-three)

I reach over my right shoulder,
Grasp the sword with my right hand,
Yell as I pull clear of scabbard
"You killed my Kinsmen for this land.!"

Though I am but sixteen summers
I am agile and well-skilled,
Polished broadsword blade is bloodied
As a threatening guard is killed.

The Earl is also young and ready
To defend himself by force,
Closes bolt on his Lee Enfield,
Fires and I fall in the gorse.

Waves of pain are washing o'er me,
Bitter tears of failure flow.
Laughing, with a coward's swagger,
The Earl's won, has laid me low.

I lie gasping like a salmon
That's been landed on the shore
Feel the stabbing pain of lung shot
Know that soon I breathe no more.

As he leans over my body
I can look into his eyes,
See he has no mercy for me
Hear the sneer in "Hang him high!"

With my last reserves of strength
I can make my vow complete.
With my "sgean dhu" I slash...
The Earl falls down at my feet.

Blood sprays from the second mouth
Cut into his throat - he screams.
I slump back onto the ground,
Duty done, now let me dream.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 

Comments

I found this very evocative, & mostly quite transporting. It is far from my own style so I don't feel qualified to critique with depth, but offer my response. I enjoyed the story & was reminded of Cullodin, many a tragic & haunting song I have sung in a similar ilk. One odd thing that stood out for me ( odd that it should stand out, not odd or out of place in the poem) was the impact of the bracketed naming of the weapon, it struck me how adding that detail & spelling the numbers out like that could add such potency to the flavour of the characters intent. I was impressed. Hope that's all useful. Cheers A

Cheers
Anni

My dear friend always told me "Water the seeds of joy first"

Glad you enjoyed the read, thanks for taking the time to comment.. I left enough time for an extended story, the first part around 1790, the second around 1920, with a possible third around 2000.

Kindest Regards

Ian

TIME FLIES LIKE AN ARROW, BUT FRUIT FLIES LIKE A BANANA

author comment

Ian, this is a kick. It's not my priority to critique the poetry, but I'll tell you that this rolls right along with your usual high standard.
Now, as a story... The exposition is as clear as they come. I particularly liked the two piece nature of it. Two expositions interwoven. The complication was laid out for me as clear. We want revenge and here comes the Earl.
Here's my complaint. Though it is a little too quick in coming for my taste, I see the last stanza as our climax. Too easily arrived at, it is yet clear and dramatic... but we have no resolution. We are left hanging to imagine if the Earl is killed or our hero killed or the Earl killed and our hero arrested... whatever.
As poetry this is complete. We're left guessing and that's perfectly acceptable, but as a story we need a NEW status quo. The complication is meant to take our hero (or heroes) into a difficult scenario (check), force our character(s) into making critical decisions and then deal with the consequences. We have all of this but the consequences.
Now, if this is not finished, then ignore everything I just said. But if you consider it finished... it is not. You mentioned above that you might add to it and I think you must. Remember that not only does the bulk of the story require exposition, complication, climax and resolution, but so also the pieces require all four parts inside themselves. Therefore, we must finish the climax in the second part (the first part is wonderfully complete) and resolve to something different.
I don't know how much story telling you've played with in the past, but this poem is an excellent (if unfinished) tale.
wesley

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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My thanks for your most welcome comments, Wes, I now have this piece completed as far as I can. I hope this now satisfies the criteria. I am a bit of a storyteller in verse and short (500 word ) stories. I find poetry a great help when writing prose, as it encourages the trimming down of unwanted verbiage.
regards
Ian

TIME FLIES LIKE AN ARROW, BUT FRUIT FLIES LIKE A BANANA

author comment

Now THIS is poetry! need I say more?..........stan

Thanks Stan, your opinion means a lot to me

Ian

TIME FLIES LIKE AN ARROW, BUT FRUIT FLIES LIKE A BANANA

author comment

Duplicate. How do you delete these things? :(

No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job. - TS Eliot

http://www.wsgeorge.com/

Your poem is great. This is my first time reading it, so I haven't gotten the chance to see the changes in the piece. As it stands now, I love it.

The narrative is smart, and the rhyme is ingenious. I thoroughly enjoyed the read.

I found the shift in time a bit abrupt, but it didn't derail me. I quickly realized what was going on and followed through. The end was perfect (in my opinion). You used some powerful wording too, especially in the last line. I found that quite profound.

I thought you should take a look at this:

"Hidden in the thatch, my broadsword.
In my hand I heft its weight
Cut down two red - coated escorts
But am shot by those I hate."

Could you consider changing the "am" to "I'm"?

I also thought this was a bit odd

"I approach and guards surround me
Demand to know from whence I came.
Keeping my head lowered I tell them
"Anywhere my kin calls hame." "

the "hame"?. I found that a bit difficult to get.

and then...
"With my last reserves of strength
I can make my vow complete.
With my "sgean dhu" I slash...
The Earl falls down at my feet"

the "sgean dhu". A little explanation will help, but I'll google it first :)

This is a lovely poem. Thanks for sharing it. :D

No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job. - TS Eliot

http://www.wsgeorge.com/

Bill, thanks for the input. All the points you make are relevant and well worth discussion.
"am" in the context of that line is, I believe, grammatically correct, as is "I'm" (I am). I prefer Your "I am".
"hame" is the Scots word for home. Old Scots saying "East? West? Hame's best!"
"sgean dhu" Here I put my hands up and confess to using Scots gaelic for a dagger kept in a pouch inside a highlander's stocking. I would not argue that the spelling is correct. the knife is called a "skee-in-doo and could have a 10inch blade .. Glad you enjoyed the read and thanks again for the input.

Ian

TIME FLIES LIKE AN ARROW, BUT FRUIT FLIES LIKE A BANANA

author comment

when someone reads my big poem. I tell them the guy has a cramp in his wame and they look at me like I have two heads. I mean, okay, I do, but still... wesley

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about

The original survey of Great Britain was done by the military (Ordnance Survey) in the late 18th century. The surveyors gave the Scottish mountains the gaelic names that they were informed of by their highlander guides.
It was several years later that a revision had to take place to change a lot of the names into less scatological references to the English...... Most of them were unrepeatable, apart from being impossible to perform unless by a contorsionist .

Ian

TIME FLIES LIKE AN ARROW, BUT FRUIT FLIES LIKE A BANANA

author comment

That, Ian, is a brilliant tale!
I'm at work at the moment, but bugger that! I wouldn't stop reading if the boss man was right behind me.
I enjoyed that very much.
As a whole I find it flawless. I wonder what could possibly happen in a third installment?

_____________
If I had it my way I'd be up on a mountain. Playing my guitar,
until my calluses grew calluses, my arse a chair and my smile into a halo

third instalment being thought over, present day or near future with Scottish independence involed?
I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Ian

TIME FLIES LIKE AN ARROW, BUT FRUIT FLIES LIKE A BANANA

author comment
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