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the wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees


Well I have thought about poetry, and came up with a story, but with no poetry. I see these poems about, and think about the magic. Poetry is simple. I haven’t the knack, one day I hope to have the knack. This one is clearly my favourite, reference.


Myth Weaver
I have a poet that I am lucky enough to call a friend.
They say it takes a lot of hard work to make a poem to simple or easy.
I think it's a great day if I can write 2,000 words.
They are happy with 2 lines :giggle:
I've tried writing poetry and well... Let's just say I must have other talents.
It is a beautiful poem but some of the half line rhymes grate with me.
They are there for some verses and not others.

One of my favourite poems is The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost.
But the poem that for many reasons, makes me stop and read it or listen to it every time is High Flight by John Gillespie Magee jr. I managed to find an audio recording of it by Orson Wells [I believe] that was played at my Father's Funeral.


My poetry is mostly to do with cats. The Road Not Taken and High Flight seems to be about desire, or truth. I was influenced by William Blake, the poet, Tyger.
Hmm, I think the last line of ‘gusty trees’ seems to jar with me. We already know they’re gusty because of the torrents of wind.

I can’t help but be drawn into the dark romanticism of Emily Brontë.


That’s the deal with these romanticisms. Take the Disney Renaissance. Emily had a sister called Charlotte. Stuff like that.

A. E. Lowan

Forum Mom
Evil Queen of Why on deck. You use the word, "gusty." It's a great word, but for the most part it isn't used to describe anything other than wind/storms/air. I think it maybe can possibly be used to describe something else, like a person who is somehow windy, but that's probably a discussion for another thread. Right here, it doesn't work.

However, "torrent of darkness" does work, and I think is a great description. It gives the feel of heavy rain in the depths of night. Good stuff.
The word gusty makes me think of what happens when you eat too much broccoli.

And it makes me think of this guy and his mention of badverbs - which I am now always conscious of.

I feel like gusts or gust would just be better, but torrents of darkness pretty much paints all the picture we need.

And the romantic view of criminals has always eluded me. From Dick Turpin to Robin Hood. Why are these characters so romanticised.


Myth Weaver
Poetry is simple....

I dont think I would call poetry simple. In fact, I think its kind of the opposite, unless your doing roses are red, violets are blue...

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Poetry's not simple
Less your name's Angelou. ...And probably not even then.

Did you write this? or did someone else?

Torrent of darkness--I think that works, but gusty trees is off. Gust blown trees works better.

Torrent is a word in use in my opening chapter of my first book, and its one I waffle on. 'Torrents of Norvaine' was used there to mean, all the events are flowing through Norvaine (it a place), but there is no actual water that flows in a big way. One person commented on it way back when that they did not get it. I keep changing it, and then think better and change it back. I think it may be one of those I never quite settle on.
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toujours gai, archie
The line loses me immediately. The wind can be a torrent. I picture it sweeping in the way a gale does, of a sudden and concentrated. That's what a torrent does. Wind is usually broader than that. I can see the sides of a torrent; I rarely see the boundaries of wind (except at sea or on endless expanses of land).

Anyway, I'm already tripped up by wind being a torrent, then the author throws darkness at me. Now I'm caught between trying to picture--and isn't a poem meant to help me picture something?--trying to picture, I say, how darkness is a torrent. Or is the wind a torrent. Or is there a torrent of wind blowing somewhere that's a torrent of light? Then, as if the author thought maybe the reader wasn't wind-tossed enough, he gives us gusty trees. That comes closest to working. I can let it slide into home on a torrent of poetic license. But it sure isn't a strong image and is nowhere near enough to rescue the line.

In brief, after one line, I don't have much of an image. The poet is trying to say it was a dark and stormy night. As his editor, I'd say go back and make something both clearer and more pedestrian. After all, I tell him, look at the rest of the poem. It's concrete. It's specific. It is, for the most part, literal. So why open with this patch of gusty puffery? Be honest now, just between you, me, and the inkwell, you got caught up in alliteration, didin't you?

Anyway, what I would do with it is *snip*! and consign it to the gustbin of history.


Well, I was unusually attracted to the opening line, it is very, very romanticised, but made no sense.


However, this poem and trying to describe its composition reminds me of a still life painting. It is full of description, a load of waffle, and it is like a picture forms in your head that is likened to a blank statement or a pay check - jokes aside; silver spoon, wooden spoon, I don’t know.