William Tell was a rocket scientist

Yes, it's another poem post. I know that I had one not too long ago but I'm going ahead with another one. Hopefully, if you know me, you are the kind of person that will appreciate my odd style of creative writing as well.

But, more importantly, this poem was a good exercise in reminding me that I've got at least a little bit of skill as a writer. I follow some pretty great blogs online and read some pieces that are very well crafted. When I do, it makes me wish I could dedicate more time to my own writing and improve my skills.

So, I'm going to run you through some of what I did yesterday working on this poem. Here's the draft I had after some tinkering. I felt that it was in reasonably good shape but something was missing. See if you can spot where.

William Tell was a rocket scientist.

He aimed for the stars.

For the moon.

"One day," he told me, "I will get

to the moon." And he would look

up into the night sky as he walked.

He always walked at night. Watching

the moon, measuring, calculating.

563,009 miles; 3409 minutes; 898,008,023

gallons of rocket fuel; 1 lifetime.

I walked with him by the river, at night.

"I'm so close," he would say and stretch his hand

to the sky.

In front of us, along the river, a boy stretched

out his hand to the girl next to him. They're eyes

looking down at the river, at the reflection

of the moon.

When I read through this version to Mia, she agreed that something was missing but couldn't put her finger on where. What I saw as I was writing and tweaking was that I needed something at the end of the 4th stanza to tie William Tell's connection to the moon into the connection between the young couple. With some help from Mia, this is what I came up with.

William Tell was a rocket scientist.

He aimed for the stars.

For the moon.

"One day," he told me, "I will get

to the moon." And he would look

up into the night sky as he walked.

He always walked at night. Watching

the moon, measuring, calculating.

238,900 miles; 4,549 minutes; 500,000

gallons of rocket fuel; 1 lifetime.

I walked with him by the river, at night.

"I'm so close," he would say and stretch out

his hand like he could bring the moon

to him.

In front of us, along the river, a boy stretched

out his hand to the girl next to him. They're eyes

looking down at the water, at the reflection

of the moon.

Now, if you want to look a little deeper into my mind, I'll explain a little more of my thoughts. I don't really write love poems. The kind of stuff that just gushes mushy metaphors and lacks any deeper meaning. But, I like to write poems about love. Something that lets me explore the condition of love in a way that is meaningful to me.

In this case, I'm exploring the pursuit of achievement that the protagonist (William Tell) is seeking by his quest for the moon. In that pursuit, we see that he's lost sight of everything else in the world, and developed an unrequited infatuation with the moon.

In contrast, the young couple walking along the river not only have each other but through their connection, they are able to appreciate the moon that is nearer to them in the river's reflection. Their sight is aimed in a different direction and yet it brings them closer (metaphorically) to the goal that William Tell is pursuing (but since the moon itself is a symbol the metaphor works).

Anyway, that's what I was trying to put into the piece, I hope that's what you got out of it as well.