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Marble My Memory
How cunning a demon, this thing we call Fate,
In the shadow of time she coils in wait,
Adrenaline her drug, and hope is her bait
The world was mine, but she chose the date.
Like so many damned, I thought I could win
Joining the world of adventurous men,
I scoffed as I passed her shadowy den
But Fate simply snickered, and then lured me in…
“So step to the table, it’s Russian Roulette,
Pull your soul’s trigger, it’s not over yet
You’ve trained for the worst, how bad can it get?
Each fight is a chance to stake a new bet!”
Marble my memory, and stone for a name
A small patch of grass my last earthly claim;
A tale in the taverns my one bit of fame,
This hand I was dealt here in Fate’s bitter game.
Review Request (Intensity):
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction):
What did you think of my title?
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:
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Comments
judyanne
Sat, 2012-08-25 13:25
now, i am i a little lost to
now, i am i a little lost to the text here
it reads to me as the actual 'game'' of russian roulette causing your death,
(i so love the way you describe that btw
- ‘Marble my memory, and stone for a name
A small patch of grass my last earthly claim’
but having read your previous piece, ‘final role call’, i keep expecting a little more depth ... as to the likeness to russian roulette of every sortie perhaps?
what then brings me back to the theme being, blatantly, the game are the lines
‘A tale in the taverns my one bit of fame,
This hand I was dealt here in Fate’s bitter game’
- this confuses
am I trying to read too much into it?
great meter and rhyme
love judy
xxx
'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)
soldierpoet
Sat, 2012-08-25 13:49
Thank you!
First, thank you for your review. The poem is written from the perspective of a soldier who lost at the "game" of war; you were correct in reading every mission as being a version of russian roulette. Every time we deploy, every mission, every fire fight is another bet we place with our lives: if you lose, what is left but a marble tombstone over your grave and the stories your friends tell for a few more years?
author commentweirdelf
Sat, 2012-08-25 21:22
The poem is beautifully crafted
and your explanation that it is an allegory for war makes it make more sense.
Now my personal peeve. I don't believe in fate. There are always choices, albeit many bad ones, but fate rules nothing. You could have been a conscientious objector. That does not take away from your poem, just me getting on my soap box [smiles]
cheers,
Jess
A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
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soldierpoet
Sun, 2012-08-26 02:11
Very true,
and that is something I hit on in the poem... notice fate lures us, baits us, and taunts us, yet we make the choice to play the game. Thank you for your review!
author commentChina Blue
Tue, 2012-08-28 11:21
soldierpoet
well done indeed I cannot add anymore than what has been said
question though or perhaps a little tweaking
the use of her many times throughout the work , is there some way "her" can be trimmed a bit?
why is fate a she lol
Chrys
Let your mercy spill on all these burning hearts in hell(Leonard Cohen)