#1
Lights turn on in the arenas of New Rome,
Chipped shoulders lift cold steel, whilst
Lidless eyes evaluate and address trembling flesh.

Familiar bells chime.
Tears leak from faucets,
And from faces.

Now Father Time is caught juggling too many balls.
A minute, a second, an hour, a day;
It is irrelevant. Time is a box that gets filled and spills
Stirring memory with desire, sorrow and thorn.

The most elegant of birds get caged,
But beauty cannot be contained
It transcends the metal bars;

In her grace
The rust of iron,
Shifts to light and gold.

Solace, a familiar friend,
(But scarcely met), screamed at me
Through this amp and chord.

I climbed the walls,
And remembered the triviality of everything
In the wake of love and laughter.
The echoes of ecstacy
And the mountain of mutuality.
-Suddenly those tall buildings and trees felt small

-------------------

This is one of the rare occassions where I do not care what is thought of this piece...
It needed to be written, and is deeply personal to me.
Last edited by hiddeninromance at Jun 12, 2008,
#2
Lights turn on in the arenas of New Rome,
just turning on the lights doesn't really do that much to start this.
i get the feeling you want to start slow and build up momentum.
but i hope you'll look to say something more with the way the lights come on.
or at least point back to this later by having a glint or reflection
from a surface or in an eye.
moment in the piece made me thing of a bullfight, running of the bulls or even gladiator.
Of course the gladiator angle is stifled by the fact that the lights turned on.
You could even have the sun illuminate the participants,
making this less limited to the present era.
later the amp and "chord" will force it to the present.

Chipped shoulders lift cold steel, whilst
Lidless eyes evaluate and address trembling flesh.

Familiar bells chime.
Tears leak from faucets,
And from faces.

Now Father Time is caught juggling too many balls.
A minute, a second, an hour, a day;
It is irrelevant. Time is a box that gets filled and spills
Stirring memory with desire, sorrow and thorn.

The most elegant of birds get caged,
But beauty cannot be contained
It transcends the metal bars;

In her grace
The rust of iron,
Shifts to light and gold.

Solace, a familiar friend,
(But scarcely met), screamed at me
Through this amp and chord.
this line destroys the piece.
everything else can point to numerous interpretations.
this only points in one direction, and it does so, poorly.
the cable used with an amp is a cord not a chord.
writing it that way make you look like a moron.
nothing else in this piece
would give me the slightest indication you could ever be in that category.
if you're referring to the sound, you MUST say chords (plural) to force the thought that way.
even if you're focused on the singular resounding of an initial chord,
the juxtaposition of amp and chord forces an assumption that you've misspelled this.
you could use quotation marks around "chord",
but that looks uglier than a miniskirt on your great grandmother.
personally, i think you should reconsider the line entirely
and look for another metaphor to replace them.


I climbed the walls,
And remembered the triviality of everything
In the wake of love and laughter.
The echoes of ecstacy
And the mountain of mutuality.
-Suddenly those tall buildings and trees felt small

-------------------

This is one of the rare occassions where I do not care what is thought of this piece...
It needed to be written, and is deeply personal to me.


from that statement, i'll go out on a limb and say this is one big metaphor, yeah?
personal is fine. even if there are meaning within that only you and possibly one other fully understand, you've created lovely images. i hope the second comment i made does make you care. that line just ain't bangin' like the rest of it does.
Meadows
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#3
It is highlighted as being New Rome; which is my attempt to make it obvious that this place is modern. Lights turn on, is just to convey that idea that its a reopening of that old mentality; I was not making any reference to the sun in an arena; in fact it was more a joke reference to a neon sign being turned on.
In regards to my moronic description of a guitar and chord; I first think moronic is a harsh remark. Secondly, being a guitar website, I would imagine you have come across something called a guitar chord (i.e D Minor)...the meaning of that should be obvious.
And I really do not see why it needs to be plural; I can only be playing one chord at a time...it is possible for one chord to inspire you...therefore solace came from a chord.
Thanks for the kinder words.
#4
Quote by hiddeninromance
Lights turn on in the arenas of New Rome,
Chipped shoulders lift cold steel, whilst
Lidless eyes evaluate and address trembling flesh.

Familiar bells chime.
Tears leak from faucets,
And from faces.

Very good rhythm here and imagery. You're getting better.

Now Father Time is caught juggling too many balls.
A minute, a second, an hour, a day;
It is irrelevant. Time is a box that gets filled and spills
Stirring memory with desire, sorrow and thorn.

This was also great. The pause after "It is irrelevent" made this stanza in my opinion.
Father Time sounded a bit too cheesy though, maybe you should rephrase it?

The most elegant of birds get caged,
But beauty cannot be contained
It transcends the metal bars;

You seem to have lost that rhythm that you had intially for content, whicch is good,
just don't get caught up.

In her grace
The rust of iron,
Shifts to light and gold.

I'm liking the two, in succession, tercets-It creates tension.

Solace, a familiar friend,
(But scarcely met), screamed at me
Through this amp and chord.

I climbed the walls,
And remembered the triviality of everything
In the wake of love and laughter.
The echoes of ecstacy
And the mountain of mutuality.
-Suddenly those tall buildings and trees felt small

"The echoes of ecstacy" was too bland and so is the last line of this stanza. Everything elese was good.

-------------------

This is one of the rare occassions where I do not care what is thought of this piece...
It needed to be written, and is deeply personal to me.

amen


Well done and keep writing!

EDIT: Can you check out either "Rain" or "Saturday" please?