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Shelley (Masters workshop)

The original

Ozymandias
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

My version.

Ramses the second.

He’s buried in the sand yet rising tall.
Unmovable, unstoppable, a Master of us all.
The legends hold us rapt and won’t let go.
Our books, our films, in some their dreams will show
just how he holds, though millennia dead.
Millennia dead and we know that he said-
“Look on my works and despair.”
It’s written in the stone, it’s written in the air.
His face is Empire.
His body grips the Earth.
None in remembrance length can surpass.
The grains wide about are filled with a mass.
Witness the knee prints of ghosts in the sand,
then look to his eyes and their cold reprimand.

Style / type: 
Free verse
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?
Last few words: 
I think the concept of turning the poem in the other direction is cool, but the poetry is quite weak.
Editing stage: 
Workshop: 

Comments

As always you have nailed this piece
It may seem weak to you but that is part of our discussion
There is something about the one line
"witness the knee prints of ghosts in the sand" the imagery in this one line alone is strong
the entire poem raises the arm hairs

Chrys
Let your mercy spill on all these burning hearts in hell(Leonard Cohen)

I second chry's view. I don't think this is weak poetry.

Alid

I'm bowled over. I thought the only thing cool about the poem is that it took an opposite perspective of Shelley's.
I kind of threw it on the page in a fit of righteous indignation Ramses must feel after five freaking thousand years just sitting there.
You try doing that (he said to me).
Thank you.

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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author comment

instead of simply 'his body grips the earth' something like 'his body grips the deserted sands' - to get the feel of desolation that Shelley brings? Just a thought, otherwise I love your rendition....
( you'd be using the word 'sand' twice in the poem if you did that - but I'd then suggest you drop it in the first verse- 'he's buried, but rising tall' ....)
Lol - when the workshop was first announced I looked at Shelley and this very write - but you got in first.... and you did a much better job of it than I would have

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)

introducing Shelley's
and thank you for sharing yours.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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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

author comment
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