my soul

[MinionOfBoredom]

Excuse the ridiculously cliche title, but I stick with my working titles to the end. I kinda had to rush the end, so the reference to the Comedy is a bit shaky, but I'll play around with it when I have a bit more free time.

---

My soul, being of a rather hollow disposition,
could never understand the purpose of my midnight walks.
She joined me one day: I could tell by her
scowl and stride that she loathed the whole proceed. So
she asks me in her bittersweet singsong voice,

"The stars they are dampened and dim,
the skies they are lonely and bare,
the skies they are darkened and bare.
On what foolhardy whim would we travel
in the presence of carnal despair?"

I tell her that no, I'm
not actually sad about anything, and I
lead her to the destination of these walks,
standing exactly where I've stood a
thousand times before, staring through the
looking glass of your front door, the
familiar flowerpot feigning an invitation across
the infinite space between my breath and your
sleeping form. I can stand here a while,
watching the steps up to your room, each one
another terrace of Purgatory. I'm hoping that if I stay
long enough, maybe pretending to pray, the door
will open and I'd be able to systematically
sear away the sins that brought me here in the first place
with each step up to Paradise. But as far as I know
I could be in Judecca, and my soul is no Virgil, although
if I did make it all the way down here, turning
back would be silly. Maybe I should just
knock, since it's not like we're anywhere near
the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

[Hunt147]

That was pretty good, although I think it was kinda awkward to use bare twice to rhyme. But that's just me :-)

[MinionOfBoredom]

Haha, let's see if anyone can get that reference "bare...bare; "ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir."

But thanks. :)

[fishingthe_sky]

My soul, being of a rather hollow disposition,
could never understand the purpose of my midnight walks.
Egh, the whole "hollow soul" idea is a pretty tired one, to be honest. This opening also feels a bit underwhelming. Why do we need this as the starting place of the poem, when you could so easily articulate this point later on, and in a more interesting way (an image or metaphor).

She joined me one day: I could tell by her
scowl and stride that she loathed the whole proceed. So
she asks me, sober and
serious in her bittersweet singsong voice,
The second half of this stanza is entirely too alliterative. Also, "sober and/ serious" feels a bit redundant to me.

"The stars they are dampened and dim,
the skies they are lonely and bare,
the skies they are darkened and bare.
On what foolhardy whim would we travel
in the presence of carnal despair?"
I get the reference and what you're going for, but I agree that the rhyming of "bare" with "bare" is awkward. This kind of anaphora feels dated.

Typical of her. I tell her that no, I'm
not actually sad about anything, and I
lead her to the destination of these walks,
standing exactly where I've stood a
thousand times before, staring through the
looking glass of your front door, the
familiar flowerpot feigning an invitation across
the infinite space between my breath and your
sleeping form. I can stand here a while,
watching the steps up to your room, each one
another terrace of Purgatory. I'm hoping that if I stay
long enough, maybe pretending to pray, the door
will open. But as far as I know
I can be in Judecca, and my soul is no Virgil, although
if I did make it all the way down here, turning
back would be silly. Maybe I should just
knock, since it's not like we're anywhere near
the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.
Firstly, we don't need the "Typical of her" at all. Secondly, there are some decent allusions here, but the whole image has been done before without all the sort of fluffing up of the language. It's not bad, per say, but it's lacking any sort of emotive drive, like a story without heart (I don't mean to be judgmental about your age, but if you are in fact 15, this would make sense; then I must say, it feels like the speaker is just pretending, like these are things he speaks of but does not experience or feel in actuality).

Not a bad ode to Poe, but the whole thing just feels flat. It's lacking an emotive core that drives the speaker to actually do these things. Also, the language, while not exactly anachronistic or anything like that, feels outdated. Perhaps this was meant to be an imitation, but it's just not there, I don't think.

[MinionOfBoredom]

Egh, the whole "hollow soul" idea is a pretty tired one, to be honest. This opening also feels a bit underwhelming. Why do we need this as the starting place of the poem, when you could so easily articulate this point later on, and in a more interesting way (an image or metaphor).

Thanks; I have some ideas for revision.

The second half of this stanza is entirely too alliterative. Also, "sober and/ serious" feels a bit redundant to me.

Removed "sober and serious."

I get the reference and what you're going for, but I agree that the rhyming of "bare" with "bare" is awkward. This kind of anaphora feels dated.

Was Poe's rhyming of "sere" with "sere" awkward? Not trying to be comparative or anything, but I just want to see what I can do differently to retain the "Ulalume" feel without changing the structure.

Firstly, we don't need the "Typical of her" at all.

Removed.

Secondly, there are some decent allusions here, but the whole image has been done before without all the sort of fluffing up of the language. It's not bad, per say, but it's lacking any sort of emotive drive, like a story without heart (I don't mean to be judgmental about your age, but if you are in fact 15, this would make sense; then I must say, it feels like the speaker is just pretending, like these are things he speaks of but does not experience or feel in actuality).

The poem does derive from personal experience, but we don't need to get into my stalker-esque habits, haha. The lack of emotion was to an extent intended, cliche as that sounds. I tried to go for a very matter-of-fact tone, the speaker himself not even sure of his drive to be where he is. In retrospect, I think that the word "hoping" contradicts this tone, though.

Not a bad ode to Poe, but the whole thing just feels flat. It's lacking an emotive core that drives the speaker to actually do these things. Also, the language, while not exactly anachronistic or anything like that, feels outdated. Perhaps this was meant to be an imitation, but it's just not there, I don't think.

What I tried to do was juxtapose old and new while keeping both extremes, but instead I think that I got something in the middle. Noted.

---

Thanks very much for the commentary and critique. I'll post a revised version either tomorrow or later tonight, or maybe after another walk.

[fishingthe_sky]

I think it's going to be hard to keep the structure and tone of "Ulalume" without running into the problem of feeling outdated or simply imitative, personally. Poe's style is one that does not transcend time and space as well as other older poets do, simply because his style is very much a period style. To try and use his structure and tone as mimicry is to be rather regressive. He's certainly not a bad poet to look towards in admiration and inspiration, and often makes for great allusive material, but is just not a poet to be calling forth so readily in the Contemporary era, since he is certainly part of an anachronistic past in terms of his poesy.

[MinionOfBoredom]

Yeah, I figured that. Regression to Romanticism, anyone?

---

Anyway, I've redone the first stanza entirely:

I went out for a walk the other night, after I
figured that my soul was asleep and
I wouldn't want to bring her into this, anyway.
She caught me by the arm on the way out the
door, but instead of chiding my guile
she joined me: I could tell by her
scowl and stride that she loathed the whole proceed. Of
course she couldn't understand what melody I heard in the
electrical hum of the streetlight choir overhead or what
beauty I saw in the weave of empty streets. All
she heard was a ridiculously sharp B-flat which somehow
managed to cast my shadow on the asphalt. So
she asks me in her bittersweet singsong voice,...

Better/worse/it has potential/it's crap/eh?

EDIT: meh, I don't like it. I'll clean it up when I'm less tired.

[Ryzenfall]

Yeah, I figured that. Regression to Romanticism, anyone?

---

Anyway, I've redone the first stanza entirely:

I went out for a walk the other night, after I
figured that my soul was asleep and
I wouldn't want to bring her into this, anyway.
She caught me by the arm on the way out the
door, but instead of chiding my guile
she joined me: I could tell by her
scowl and stride that she loathed the whole proceed. Of
course she couldn't understand what melody I heard in the
electrical hum of the streetlight choir overhead or what
beauty I saw in the weave of empty streets. All
she heard was a ridiculously sharp B-flat which somehow
managed to cast my shadow on the asphalt. So
she asks me in her bittersweet singsong voice,...

Better/worse/it has potential/it's crap/eh?

EDIT: meh, I don't like it. I'll clean it up when I'm less tired.

I seem to feel more of you in this stanza than in the first version.

I think that the line break after "tell by her" could include "scowl" before going to the next line... not really sure. I guess just a lot of the line breaks seem to be strange because this reads a bit like prose.

Enjoyed the metaphors in this version a lot. The B-flat part could be confusing to some readers though, because the transition from the noise from the lights (the choir) to the lights being the actual noise (the b-flat) is an entirely different picture with little transition.

And I'm secretly all for a regression to Romanticism, in a similar way as I will stubbornly refuse to believe that machismo and libido must trump chivalry. But don't tell the beats that.