Here are the first 12 lines. (Formatting for poetry apparently isn't the same as for short stories, but to keep electronic rights as my own, I can't put out much anyway.) The full poem is 50 lines. If anyone's interested, I'll email you the full thing.
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Food in cans, they say, will save your life.
I say, count the cost.
For every life it saves, it kills a pirate,
A future pirate,
And sneaks a weakling in his place
To grow around a pirate's bones.
Scurvy's done, it's true, but more's the shame.
Not a wag aboard the _Shimm'ring Star_
Has spit up blood or fainted dead
In nigh a year.
Ne'er will I trust a man, aye, ne'er
Until we sail as mates on the ocean's back
-----
I couldn't help it. The notion of a pirate issue was so weird to me that I couldn't get it out of my head, and then, in a dark and peculiar mood, this is what came out.
Thanks,
Oliver
Edited to make links work.
[This message has been edited by oliverhouse (edited October 07, 2006).]
The reference is to the fact that tin cans dramatically reduced the incidence of scurvy aboard ships. The pirate is displeased because the whippersnappers have gotten soft by not having to put up with the stuff that he did. If what I've written is that obscure then I'll have to rethink that first stanza.
I'll wait for more feedback -- never make a decision based on a statistical sample of one if you can help it -- but you've just dampened my enthusiasm for it.
Another reference I use is "I hauled a lad like that across my keel". Does that paint a clear picture of what the pirate did, and do you have an idea of why pirates and other sailors did that?
Thanks,
Oliver
quote:
To discipline by dragging under the keel of a ship.
But the definition implies that "across" is not the best choice for your preposition.
BTW, you can get more lines in by using "/" to represent line breaks.
This idea, the voice and the imagery would make a nice hook for a story, too.
The canned food thing didn't suggest a cure for scurvy to me.
I'm not much on poetry, mind you, but this one really didn't make any sense to me at all.
quote:
Um... scurvy is a Vitamin C deficiency. I've always heard the thing that sailors used to battle scurvy was a little vinegar each day.
Okay, you've made me go out and research something that I thought I knew. I discovered that I'm right: Being able to preserve fruits and such in cans also helped the sailors* consume the right amount of Vitamin C, which caused a dramatic drop in scurvy. It is, as I understand it, the major factor in reducing the incidence of scurvy worldwide.
Being right is small consolation, of course, because apparently a poem that relies on this bit of information will have some trouble. It looks like I'm batting 1 for 4 on Hatrack; the ratio's about 3 for 4 among some other acquaintances. Bummer.
If I kill the first stanza (my poor darling!), the next lines are these:
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Ne'er will I trust a man, aye, ne'er
Until we sail as mates on the ocean's back
With blistered hands and weathered faces
Trading an hour or two anon
Of heaving out our sorry guts amidships.
We see our own faces on our deathly mates,
And as they stand we ourselves rise up.
Not so the younger school.
So smart they are, preening, speaking,
Lashed to their books as if the Tempest cared
About Empedocles or Bonaventure. Indeed,
She dispatched their cherished Odysseus
Long ago.
-----
The title, by the way, is tentatively "The Death of a Pirate's Life".
Thanks,
Oliver
* And, it turns out, soldiers. According to one source, more of Napoleon's soldiers were disabled from scurvy and hunger than combat. I don't know the proportion of hunger casualties to scurvy.
[This message has been edited by oliverhouse (edited October 09, 2006).]
I want UNcommon associations in poetry. I say write for the eyes and ears first. If you want them to see cans, let them see cans.
I personally found that starting off with second stanza instead of the first made things a lot more clearer and interesting.
[This message has been edited by Elan (edited October 15, 2006).]
I felt like saying...
"Food in cans will save your life.."
Bah, give me a half starved rat
and a pirate
you will have, not fodder for Davy Jones
Locker.
Half starved and hungry
sharp eyed and wary, waiting like
a predator - ah what a pirate
Full bellied and a mind filled
with song, nothing wrong to be sure
but can he endure, the rigors of the
sea
something like that..sorry if I strayed.
quote:
I have a hard time getting excited about the concept of canned food causing the decline of pirate life. I cannot envision Errol Flynn's swashbucking as he wields a can opener instead of a sword while facing the Dread Pirate Roberts.
LOL Sounds like a _great_ image... if I'm writing for Monty Python.
I guess what I'm going for is the side of a pirate that you don't typically see. They were entrepreneurial ship captains, and as such had to deal with recruiting, paying, and retaining their crews just like any other business. (Okay, not _just_ like any other business...) Keeping their crews healthy would be an important part of their lives in between all the swashbuckling.
Although Kinh's level of formality is much higher than I would have used to describe the poem, the interpretation is on target. (It was sent to you a few days ago, by the way, Kinh.)
TMan, I understand where you're coming from, and that's not bad -- but it's also not my pirate.
It's funny. I'm not a poet, as I've said, but I've gotten feedback from people who "do poetry", including one poet who has published a few anthologies in the small press, and they all like or dislike different parts of it, and for different reasons.
In general, the feedback from people who do poetry has been much more positive than the feedback I get from people who don't -- which makes me wonder whether there's a lot of breathing of one's own exhaust there that wouldn't translate effectively to a broader market. It makes me question whether it makes sense to try to sell a poem to a predominantly short story market.
Something to figure out eventually...
Thanks to you all for your comments.
Regards,
Oliver