kareina

While I do write songs, or poems, now and then, it is usually for a bardic competition, or a gift for a friend, and while it often happens that one or two ideas for them come quickly, it usually takes fair bit of effort to get an entire song or poem completely written.

Last night, on the other hand, as I was about to crawl into bed a bit of a verse started bubbling up in my mind, so I grabbed my phone, opened an app in which I could type, and words just flowed out. Lots of them. When I was done I sent them, typos and all (without even so much as looking at what I had typed) to a friend, with a comment "Hopefully now I will sleep, tomorrow I can decide if it is worth cleaning up, or if it has served its purposes". When I woke up in the morning I saw that he had replied "Worth cleaning up.", so I copied the message I had sent him into a Word document (way easier than plugging the phone into a computer!) and had a look.

The only changes that have happened since then are fixing the typos induced by the phone's keyboard, a few minor changes of wording to better fit the rhythm, and sticking line breaks in at consistent places.


A pandemic poem

How oft has man seen man laid low,
struck down and ill, too weak to go,
and cried in anguish at the punishment
from god, or gods, whose cruel whim
does crush a mortal blow?

With time and learning have we found
a different tale; not gods, but simple
creatures seek to thrive and find
that niche where each can double grow,
and grow again, redoubled ever more.

Yet as they thrive, all unwitting
do they us bind; imprisoned in
our homes; none dare to leave until
that day that vaccine is achieved
can loose the binds and set us free.

Then to behold a world so changed
from what it was, a few brief weeks
before, so many dead, yet but
a drop in the bucket that is
the teeming flesh of mortal man,

who dared to justify rampant
breeding by their legends of old
of a god who gave dominion
unto his chosen race, to bend
to will all that they e're did see;

thus revelling with all their might,
spreading filth, and waste and ruin.
Even as we wrought our great works
of art and kindness; touched we all
our fellow man, and beast, one by

one spreading words of love and hope;
connections that bring joy to all
and wisdom to a chosen few.
But which will thrive in this new change-
ed state? Those who do hate and feel

themselves supreme, or those who with
kindness treat one and all? We can
not know from where we sit, and wait
as each slow page the turning book
reveals the twists of fate, slowly,

ever changed, we learn, once again
how to live with a small virus,
battering at the doors and some,
perhaps enough, of those who care
are in a place to bring new hope for all.

It is amazing how much improvement can be made on a thing by getting plenty of feedback. I wrote a sestina this summer, to see if I could. On my own the answer was "yes, it is possible to hammer some words more or less into that structure". However, it wasn't very good, and I wasn't very happy with it. Therefore I sent it off to the Mists Bardic College and skyped into one of their meetings for feedback, and the tone of their comments reaffirmed my opinion, but, of course, they had helpful suggestions of things I could do about it.

So I set it aside and did other things for a number of weeks. Then, when I had a chance to catch up on email I discovered that gmail had helpfully filtered a reply from Rian, another member of the Mists Bardic College (who hadn't made it to that meeting), into a seldom opened folder. In that message she had some very good and concrete suggestions on how to fix some of the biggest problems, and this inspired me to take it out and see what could be done. I applied her suggestions and then sent it to the wonderful Kaarina in Aarnimetsä, who had some further good suggestions, so I have worked on it some more. Now I am no longer unhappy with it. Perhaps it could still be improved, but I am much happier with it. Therefore I post it here, and if it changes much before it gets used for the bardic competition next month I can always post it again.
( the poem )
(OK, so I might have had a bit too much fun playing with formatting there...)