literature

I Came as an Echo

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LunaNitor's avatar
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Literature Text

I came as an echo.
My sound, often tenuous, sometimes tepid,
festers in the hollow of my aching throat: a vessel for uncommitted actions.
I travel, ricocheting along thick foliage, stone walls, and mountaintops,
eagerly searching for a comfortable grave
in the rusted-red sky, the burnt, sinking Sun,
where the stars await my last, dissipating cry.
The moon scoops me up and
dusts my murmurs across the centuries.
I whisper to her, “I came as an echo;
I depart as ash.”

 

I'd love critiques on this!  
© 2016 - 2024 LunaNitor
Comments15
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clownscape's avatar
:star::star::star::star::star-half: Overall
:star::star::star::star::star: Vision
:star::star::star::star::star-empty: Originality
:star::star::star::star::star-half: Technique
:star::star::star::star::star-half: Impact

First of all, I loved the surreal feel to this. You coursed along the imagery with so much candor as if the words melted between your fingers. And you made newer rhythmic models out of them. With one continuous mood of the incomplete being encompassing it all.

Now, although I don't consider critiquing poetry as a particular strength of mine. I’ll try to discuss a few things which I felt instinctively while I read this -

"The moon scoops me up and
dusts my murmurs across the centuries.


The verb form of dusts generally refers to wiping or cleaning. I’m not too sure if that’s the effect you wanted to achieve over here. I won’t be able to quite put my finger on it, unless you explain your intent there, but I feel that itself calls for a rephrasing for clarity’s sake. For the poet may not travel with the poem.

“I came as an echo;
I depart as ash.”


I felt both the phrases using the word as made it sound a bit too constricted. Perhaps, using something like “I depart in ash” in the second instance will make it sound more lyrical.


Also, the significance of this poem ran with its playful mingling with the imagery of its audible, which has been infused (may I say) very subtly throughout the poem – aching throat, sound – tenuous and tepid, dissipating cry, murmurs. The poem throughout builds on the imagery of coming as an echo. But then, the poem takes a turn and transforms to the realm of the tactile – thick foliage, stone walls, burnt sun, dusts. The transformation is extremely gradual and beautiful. As if it springs right from the heart of a sound and becomes a thing, within the breadth of a few lines. And ends perfectly in the metaphor of ash. And this is something that was extremely commendable about this poem.

Thanks for sharing this wonderful piece with us.

Smile.