I love this. The imagery is so arresting. I'm sure this is not what you intended when writing, but it made me think about a phenomenon I've encountered around the farm. I had an empty planter that didn't drain properly and filled with water over the winter. I hadn't checked on it, and apparently, a chipmunk had jumped into it for a drink and was unable to climb back out. The weird thing was, after the first one, several others had done the same thing and went to their deaths, not taking the dead chipmunk as a warning. A half dozen were floating in there by the time I found them. I've had the same thing happen with upturned buckets and starving mice. (For some reason, a lot of my stories end up being about ill-fated farm critters.) Now, I go around looking for ways to prevent these booby-traps like the unseen hand of critter fate ;-)
Oh that was fascinating. It makes me wonder if things like that are hardwired into some animals’ biology. It’s almost as if there’s some subroutine programmed into an animals cells that determines, “This is a situation in which it’s easier for us to self-destruct collectively than deal with the complications of the post-factor survival of the remainder of the community.”
It does make me wonder. There seems to be some powerful instinct override when it comes to what I would assume is a pretty natural deterrent: the corpses of one's companions. Is it curiosity, willfulness, nihilism, or plain stupidity? I can't begin to guess. . .
Deeply enjoyed this one. Good sensory details between the howling and the hundred tombs, and it does a good job of telling a full story in few words. The structure has nice rhythm too, the whole piece reminds me of 'The Destruction of Sennacherib.'
Wow! That’s such a kind compliment! I do like Lord Byron. I used to think I was about the only person left on the earth that truly enjoyed “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage”—a quote from that poem is the opening tag to my novel, “The Witch in the Mountain Pass” which is set in northern Greece.
Erie and frightening. I ponder what it is that sometimes drives humans to seek out lost causes, even when almost surely counter to their own survival? Some would say heroism, but the survival instincts are core to our psyche I would say! Is it a self delusion, that may compel the ego to imagine success and survival contrary to evidence?
My mind runs along these lines all the time, especially when I think of things like trips to the bottom of the ocean to see the wreckage of the Titanic! Yikes!
Eerie and lyrical at the same time. It was a joy to read.
Thank you so much, Tyler!
Ooh, fantastic job with the musicality on this one. By the end of the poem it was a chant in my mind, which really adds to the themes here. Well done.
Thank you so much, Michael! And I salute you for the work you’re doing. That’s fantastic! 🙏
I love this. The imagery is so arresting. I'm sure this is not what you intended when writing, but it made me think about a phenomenon I've encountered around the farm. I had an empty planter that didn't drain properly and filled with water over the winter. I hadn't checked on it, and apparently, a chipmunk had jumped into it for a drink and was unable to climb back out. The weird thing was, after the first one, several others had done the same thing and went to their deaths, not taking the dead chipmunk as a warning. A half dozen were floating in there by the time I found them. I've had the same thing happen with upturned buckets and starving mice. (For some reason, a lot of my stories end up being about ill-fated farm critters.) Now, I go around looking for ways to prevent these booby-traps like the unseen hand of critter fate ;-)
Oh that was fascinating. It makes me wonder if things like that are hardwired into some animals’ biology. It’s almost as if there’s some subroutine programmed into an animals cells that determines, “This is a situation in which it’s easier for us to self-destruct collectively than deal with the complications of the post-factor survival of the remainder of the community.”
It does make me wonder. There seems to be some powerful instinct override when it comes to what I would assume is a pretty natural deterrent: the corpses of one's companions. Is it curiosity, willfulness, nihilism, or plain stupidity? I can't begin to guess. . .
Deeply enjoyed this one. Good sensory details between the howling and the hundred tombs, and it does a good job of telling a full story in few words. The structure has nice rhythm too, the whole piece reminds me of 'The Destruction of Sennacherib.'
Wow! That’s such a kind compliment! I do like Lord Byron. I used to think I was about the only person left on the earth that truly enjoyed “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage”—a quote from that poem is the opening tag to my novel, “The Witch in the Mountain Pass” which is set in northern Greece.
Erie and frightening. I ponder what it is that sometimes drives humans to seek out lost causes, even when almost surely counter to their own survival? Some would say heroism, but the survival instincts are core to our psyche I would say! Is it a self delusion, that may compel the ego to imagine success and survival contrary to evidence?
My mind runs along these lines all the time, especially when I think of things like trips to the bottom of the ocean to see the wreckage of the Titanic! Yikes!
Yikes indeed!
Kudos
Thank you, Keyon! ☺️