[Fellswell]

I've been posting under several names on a subreddit called "Ghostwrite" and would like to post them elsewhere because Ghostwrite is impossible to find without link hopping.

I don't want to overpost but I've written so much in the last few months and I feel they fit together well.




Past and Through
A Mare’s Morning

A mare flew south past hearth and house
By roads and rivers dry
A care was placed upon her back
To bear through whens and whys
A cold breeze blew through darkened trees
And settled in her spine
Told, she knew that she would freeze
If settled for a time
Carried on through dark and dawn
And dawn and set again
Followed stars both small and large
And found time to name them
Told, she knew that she was through
When she was where she went
She found a way unseen, unused
Where her way was spent
Her care caught on a ragged branch
And hung there evermore
Carelessly her hymn was sung
Valued what was in store
From steps to sun to spirits wrung
Plucked from birds’ encore
Heartful pleas for symphonies
Echoed past the shore
The years fell far from company
The forest heard the score
The wind whistled through every turn
And found her cold once more
Whispering the words it learned
From leaves whose voice it wore
Her calls concerned concerts unturned
Her knells were left ignored

Harried on through turn and roam
A wealth left to invest
The wind flew west and found a home
Within a sparrow's breast
Exhaling long with glowing dawn
The larks gave up their crests
Leaning on the horizon
The leaves grew to a nest
Singing yawns from ways long-gone
Spent unwinding the rest

The wind returned to paths unturned
And found the rest entailed
Wandering out to sea
With waves on past the stern
The gale found nothing in her sail
But winding wails unearned
Grounded onto floating shale
The winds remained unlearned
She spun a hearth under a veil
Of echoes old and churned
Until the mountains tore and paled
Morning's tones were spurned
Her hues a view of sunrise stale
Of warming to a burn


It exceeded the 20 000 character limit so the rest is going to be on pastebin, here;    https://pastebin.com/zksznPAN

A very talented artist name John Reid has made some of the lyrics into songs, they can be found here;
https://soundcloud.com/itsjohnreid

[finestrat]

Is this a lyric or a poem?

[Fellswell]

Lyrics. It is the intro to everything in the pastebin link. My lyrics circle the concepts in "A Mare's Morning".

[Vintage54]

   Hello,
     Some great imagery and lines in this, but it takes a lot of concentration to fathom. Where it's coming from and where it's going is something of a mystery, and that's not in any way a criticism. It's clever, maybe too clever for popular appeal. But it certainly made an impression.

                              Vintage54

[Fellswell]

Essentially, everything revolves around the spread of influence.
My definition of potential is that it is the capacity to influence or be influenced. I see entropy increasing with the spread of influence and everything being in a state of "survival of the fittest" with lasting influence replacing survival.

The idea that man is made up of mind, body and spirit is also recurring. The mind is the understandings, biases and expectations that make up thought, also potentially the capacity to think beyond influence. Body is the biological wiring that limits and lends potential. Spirit is every possibility available based on influences.

Almost all life absorbs energy from the sun in a concentrated or diluted form. The theme of the sun being the default god is pretty important and it also fits into mind, body and spirit.

Where it is going is a little more confusing. Basically, filling expectations, making something to fit established values and being taught how to do something is filling a mold and not true creation. Philosophically I feel that filling a mold is redundant, like a chorus. True creation can only come from nothing. It is like the yin and yang.

The belief in an afterlife is dying in the age of information. That primal need to spread influence and absorb as much potential as possible is becoming the defining characteristic of humanity. Without the belief in infinite time through an afterlife and thus, infinite potential we are pulled back to that primal need.

My hopes are that we can find faith in something tangible. For example, seeing the far reaches of the universe as the future of humanity is faith, although bleak and most likely physically impossible. It seems every action is the result of a programmed cause and effect and that even the most advanced brain and body is essentially a biological computer. Perhaps humanity could believe in the possibility of digital ascension. The concept of a faith in something that would need to be created has stuck with me. The potential for faith to lead to the creation of something real. For the faith itself to be in the potential for creation. For the primal need to influence to be funneled into creation.

[Ramshackles]

I think the lyrics are quite beautiful. I'm not trying to hard to derive any deeper meaning or spend to long analysing them, just letting the imagery wash over me.

Some suggestions:

- Be a bit stricter with your editing to express your thoughts a little more concisely. It kind of feels like a stream-of-consciousness, which is really cool but it is easy to to cross over into just 'brain dump'

- What is the structure here? The verses seem more or less arbitrarily divided, to me. I kind of agree with Vintage54 when he asks about where it is going?


Have you ever tried writing lyrics to fit a tune/backing? It could be a good exercise.

I'd love to have a go at setting some of this (or some other/future stuff of yours?) to music...

[2tuoo]

r/ghostwrite is tough. Getting feedback there is practically impossible.

I concur with the structure comment by Ramshackles - without some structural login it's very hard to read or follow the ideas even on shorter texts

would it be possible to post it in a comment with some line breaks where you see fit?

[S.T.C]

Lyrics are not a collection of words, even if they're poetically written like these. You do need to put them into some verse order.
I can see this as a folk ballad , and someone with the right voice could make this work fine.

[Fellswell]

Is a song still a song if it's never sung? Perhaps just a poem. Is that anything less? Is a song just a poem passionately expressed? If the author intends a rhythm for reading and the reader observes this and follows the meaning, could it not be said the instrument is the mind, that the words and the eyes set the time? When the heart's the percussion will they hear it or rush it? Is punctuation needed to slow down the reader? Can a turning phrase match a song made static?