Nothing In The Dark

[HLemma]

When lamps are doused within the house, there’s nothing new or strange;

your eyes, when blind, betray your mind, but little else is changed.

 

The closet’s cache: a cotton sash, some clothing, socks, and shoes -

no wretched beast, no man deceased, no bomblets to defuse.

 

Beneath the bed exists no dreaded bogeyman of lore,

for under there are only air and carpet, as before.

 

At window panes, the sound of raindrops tapping, as they will,

should be okay, for in the day your fear of them is nil.

 

In dreamy clips, apocalyptic visions mar your sleep;

until you rise, dispel the lies that witching hours will keep.

 

The sun embarks on countless arcs, but when it yields to night

there’s nothing in the darkness that you can’t see in the light.

 

(For Rod Serling)

 

[Tracy Mitchell]

Wow, Hugh!  

I’m not much of an iambic guy, much less iambic heptameter, or iambic heptameter in rhyming couplets.  But I am really impressed with this.  Not once, amidst all of the iambing and rhyming, did I feel like a line was constructed for the purpose of making the rhyme  or the cadence.  There were no obvious reaches.  The theme is developed and presented so naturally.  You make marvelous use of this form.    

Twelve lines of fourteen syllables each, arranged in rhyming couplets.  Additionally, each line contains a rhyme of the fourth and eighth syllables.  I believe the lines are called fourteeners.  Is there a name for the poetry form?  I am weak with forms, Hugh, but I can see a lot in this.  I very much like the progression, which had a Tennyson feel to the lines - musical, equestrian. 

The poem does read aloud like a song. Particularly pleasant are the rhymes which are made in mid-word, e.g. S.4 L.1, and S.5 L.1.

S.5 L.2 – consider deleting ‘will’.  Just a thought.

S.6 L.2 – . . . you can’t see in the light >> . . . you cannot see in light  --   Just asking.

Thanks for posting, and welcome again to the site.

Cheers.

T


 

[Colm Roe]

When lamps are doused within the house, there’s nothing new or strange;

your eyes, when blind, betray your mind, but little else is changed.

The closet’s cache: a cotton sash, some clothing, socks, and shoes -

no wretched beast, no man deceased, no bomblets to defuse.

Beneath the bed exists no dreaded bogeyman of lore,

for under there are only air and carpet, as before.

At window panes, the sound of raindrops tapping, as they will,

should be okay, for in the day your fear of them is nil.

In dreamy clips, apocalyptic visions mar your sleep;

until you rise, dispel the lies that witching hours will keep.

The sun embarks on countless arcs, but when it yields to night

there’s nothing in the darkness that you can’t see in the light.

(For Rod Serling)

When I hear people say things like 'iambic heptameter, or iambic heptameter in rhyming couplets' (sorry Tracy) I start to switch off. No disrespect, I just don't enjoy poems that rhyme or follow certain 'rules'.
It's a cute sort of poem, not unpleasant to my ear; but there is a generic feel that I (still believe) is caused by the restrictions of counting syllables and rhyming. 
'the fear of them is nil', nil is IMO an example of shoehorning words to match the rhyme.
'there are only air and carpet', IMO this should be 'is'.
Anywho, thanks for sharing and I'm sorry for being critical with your first offering.
Looking forward to reading more of your work.
Regards 

 

[Tim J Brennan]

Is the house in the poem on Maple Street, Hugh?

[Matty11]

Nice to see some variety on the forum (and rhythm).

When lamps are doused within the house, there’s nothing new or strange;your eyes, when blind, betray your mind, but little else is changed.

I enjoyed the opening. It makes its assertion in a light and fun way. Like that bounce of internal rhyme doused/house.

The closet’s cache: a cotton sash, some clothing, socks, and shoes -no wretched beast, no man deceased, no bomblets to defuse. Beneath the bed exists no dreaded bogeyman of lore,for under there are only air and carpet, as before.

Some of the poem adopts diction and phrases - dreaded bogeyman - that takes the reader to childhood. Others like closet’s cache pull towards the adult. The shoes/defuse rhyme was fun. Perhaps the poem is defusing adult fears to child world status?

The sun embarks on countless arcs, but when it yields to nightthere’s nothing in the darkness that you can’t see in the light.

I like the countless arcs. Inventive.

cheers

matty

[Dave]

I loved the first two stanzas and the last the others strained credulity and rhyme and drifted into a territory a little too old-fashioned for my taste. You are to be commended for exploring form though in a thoughtful and skillful way. It's not my thing but so few do it in a serious manner

[Mark]

Well done on making the difficult seem easy. 

[HLemma]

Wow, Hugh!  

I’m not much of an iambic guy, much less iambic heptameter, or iambic heptameter in rhyming couplets.  But I am really impressed with this.  Not once, amidst all of the iambing and rhyming, did I feel like a line was constructed for the purpose of making the rhyme  or the cadence.  There were no obvious reaches.  The theme is developed and presented so naturally.  You make marvelous use of this form.    

Thank you. 

Twelve lines of fourteen syllables each, arranged in rhyming couplets.  Additionally, each line contains a rhyme of the fourth and eighth syllables.  I believe the lines are called fourteeners.  Is there a name for the poetry form?  I am weak with forms, Hugh, but I can see a lot in this.  I very much like the progression, which had a Tennyson feel to the lines - musical, equestrian. 

There is no name for this particular form as far as I know. It just felt natural for me to go with iambs and internal rhymes. Fourteeners? I've never heard that term, but I like it.

The poem does read aloud like a song. Particularly pleasant are the rhymes which are made in mid-word, e.g. S.4 L.1, and S.5 L.1.

S.5 L.2 – consider deleting ‘will’.  Just a thought.

My original draft was written that way. I was going to play the so-called "poetic license" card. Though the word "hours" is actually one syllable, I always feel tempted to read it as "ow-ers". I gave in to the formal pronunciation.

S.6 L.2 – . . . you can’t see in the light >> . . . you cannot see in light  --   Just asking.

Again, my original draft had "cannot" without "that" preceding the pronoun. But I was thinking how Mr. Serling himself would utter this line. I paraphrased something he actually did say, but tried to keep his personality in it if possible.

Thanks for posting, and welcome again to the site.

Cheers.

T

Thanks. I'm happy to be here.
 

[HLemma]

When I hear people say things like 'iambic heptameter, or iambic heptameter in rhyming couplets' (sorry Tracy) I start to switch off. No disrespect, I just don't enjoy poems that rhyme or follow certain 'rules'.
It's a cute sort of poem, not unpleasant to my ear; but there is a generic feel that I (still believe) is caused by the restrictions of counting syllables and rhyming. 
'the fear of them is nil', nil is IMO an example of shoehorning words to match the rhyme.
'there are only air and carpet', IMO this should be 'is'.
Anywho, thanks for sharing and I'm sorry for being critical with your first offering.
Looking forward to reading more of your work.
Regards 

No worries, Colm. Thanks for your honesty. Though I do sometimes write in other styles, I feel more in my element when I assign myself parameters of form, meter, and rhyme. It is a challenge to write that way. 

"..air and carpet" is a plural subject, so "are" is correct.
 

[HLemma]

Is the house in the poem on Maple Street, Hugh?

The monsters certainly are due there, Tim. But this was inspired by a small, dark basement apartment in a condemned tenement in some unnamed city. The name of this poem is a hint.