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Whatever will be.
Posted: 29 March 2004
Word Count: 51
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Spinning.
Spiralling in and out
of the conscious world.
Sweet glimpses of insanity I spy -
such elusive freedom from mental angst.
My mind sprints its marathon,
towards the bridge
which spans the void.
Can I reach salvation?
Dare I hold its old gnarled hand?
Destiny is fickle,
as am I.
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Comments by other Members
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 Fearless at 12:09 on 29 March 2004
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Hi Bobo
It's a good piece, just a couple of points:
1. The section:
'in and out of the conscious world.
Sweet glimpses of insanity,
such elusive freedom from mental angst.'
I can strongly identify with the sentiment here. In an asylum, you often see the inmates smiling, whether insane or not, they are free (freedom is a relative thing, is it not?)
2. The line:
'My mind sprints its marathon,'
Jars a little. You wouldn't sprint the marathon until it's end, so you may want to twist it so (but maybe I am being especially anal today)
3. The questions posed in the last four lines - very good, and valid; 'gnarled' works for me
Good piece. You'll make it. Stroll on sweetheart x
Fearless
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Skeetr at 12:09 on 29 March 2004
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Hi Bobo -- I especially the feeling you've crafted of spinning down and (possibly) out of control, the sweet glimpses of insanity... I only wonder if you need lines 3 & 5 at all? I get your meaning well without them (they read as explanation), and they seem to interrupt that great spinning, spiraling you've establsihed... I think the energy of the piece would be enhanced and the reader taken deeper into the strange 'sweetness' of it.
Good stuff, best,
Smith
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The Walrus at 14:34 on 29 March 2004
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Hey! Welcome back!
Felt quite dizzy by the end of this poem. All that spinning, spiralling and sprinting! Good tension, nice ending. Had a thought after reading Smith's comment, that it could look quite good with a sort of vortex style structure:
Spinning, spiralling,
In and out of the conscious world.
Sweet glimpses of insanity,
Such elusive freedom from mental angst.
My mind sprints its marathon,
Towards the bridge
Which spans the void.
Can I reach
Salvation?
Dare I hold
Its old
Gnarled hand?
Destiny is
Fickle,
As am
I.
Just an idea. Don't know.
Anyway, looking forward to reading more as always.
The Walrus
xx
<Added>
How very annoying. Meticulously spaced every line centered and it comes up left justfied. Pants.
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olebut at 18:12 on 29 March 2004
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Bobo
a fine piece and I like walrus ideas but just to add my own two pennworth I wonder about changing as follows :-
Destiny is fickle,
as am I. Spinning,
spiralling,
in and out
of the conscious world.
Sweet glimpses of insanity,
such elusive freedom from mental angst.
My mind sprints its marathon,
towards the bridge
which spans the void.
Can I reach salvation?
Dare I hold its old gnarled hand?
nice words whatever you decide
take care
david
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Bobo at 20:53 on 29 March 2004
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Cheers boys 'n' gals - a nice welcome back after my break from WW. Think I'll leave it as it is for now and revisit later - thanks for all your suggestions, and glad you all liked its essence.
BoBo xxx
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roovacrag at 06:09 on 30 March 2004
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Bobo nice to see you back.
Everything has been said ,I can only hail and praise your work.
xx Alice
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miffle at 12:24 on 31 March 2004
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Bobo, Welcome back! Not much to add to the detailed and constructive thoughts above. Just wanted to echo i) Walrus' thought re. containing the energy of the piece to one single stanza ii) Smith's thought re. lifting out perhaps Line 5 - yes, to me, this line seems to repeat the ideas in line 4. Write on, Miffle
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miffle at 12:26 on 31 March 2004
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Bobo, one more thought. Do you need 'old' in 'old gnarled hand' (?) - i.e. 'gnarled' suggests 'old' (as well as other things - trees, twisted structures...) to me. Just a thought, Miffle ;-)
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