4th & Dragon : Dungeons and Dragons...and stuff

I haven’t posted my writing on the web much before, partly for fear of copyright issues (not just someone stealing it: technically I can’t claim that this is “unpublished” now) and partly because I’m somewhat elitist (there I admitted it) and don’t trust the opinions of a lot of internet nubs.  That said, I wanted to start posting things for feedback.  Nothing I post here is raw: everything will have been reviewed and edited at least twice by me.  Also, my poems are generally not related to sf/fantasy although my stories are.  This poem wasn’t intended to be fantasy, but has that element.  Enjoy (and critique, please).

The Harvesting

The trees turn red, gold, orange, and brown
as they kill off un-needed extremities.
They prepare to defend against the future.

Awaiting the frigid winter to come,
we harvest cords of wood.
To defend against the future,
we collect the dead for burning warmth.

We harvest cords of wood,
drying and leaving them in covered barns,
We withhold vital food and water from the
dying, leaving them in covered barns.

The food is scarce in driven snow,
forcing bears and wolves to shamble out, seeking
pigs and cows to slaughter.  I smoke them
out of their hidden caves.

I seek dens and hibernation chambers, protecting my child.
Out of their hidden caves
Come trolls and other horrid fantasies.

Protecting my child becomes a daily struggle.
In the wilderness nearby
come trolls and other horrid fantasies, leaving
countless victims of nightmares and pain,

In the wilderness nearby
they kill off un-needed extremities.
Countless victims of nightmares and pain,
the trees turn red, gold, orange, and brown.

That was well-done… you were wise to have kept everything to yourself for eventual publication, as you’re at least as good as most I’ve read. (Though I can’t claim to read poetry consummately.) But you threw this one away by posting it for a population primarily composed of nubs. Maintain your elitism, Camerc, before it’s gone forever!

I’d like to note that the “internet nubs” insult wasn’t directed at people here or at threbb, but rather at “writing” sites that critique works.  It sometimes felt like retarded 3rd graders were reading poems, especially the insistence on sing-song rhyme schemes and juvenile images.  Sorry if anyone here felt slighted.  Just had a few bad experiences with a few boards.

In fact, having “known” many of you for years through 3ebb, I trust the reasoning and writing abilities of most of you, perhaps even moreso than some of my fellow MFA candidates.

Not at all insulted, I’m too elitist to think it could possibly have been directed at me. But I was serious that you should retain all your poems for when you find a publisher interested. These are good enough that it’ll eventually happen, so long as you remain persistent, and you shouldn’t take risks with them for our sake.

Edit: well, unless these are the sucky ones and you’re saving the amazing ones for yourself. In which case you should be published already.

Yup, you gots the stuff Mercameron. You can do it!

And does it count for me being an internet nub if I like the sing-song poetry more than no sing song? Meh...nub I am then, but that doesn’t mean I critique like one .