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Literature Text
I.
Around here
when mornings break
they shatter,
sun turning
frost to watery
October raindrops
that water
the last brittle,
blushing chrysanthemums.
I wonder
if tulips can
hear prayers,
if wishes
can hurry Spring's
first breath.
II.
Around here
when nights fall
they plummet.
Frost spreads
spiderweb fingers that
cover pumpkins
that should
have been collected
weeks ago.
I wonder
if birds will
ever share
their secret,
the time to
fly south.
Around here
when mornings break
they shatter,
sun turning
frost to watery
October raindrops
that water
the last brittle,
blushing chrysanthemums.
I wonder
if tulips can
hear prayers,
if wishes
can hurry Spring's
first breath.
II.
Around here
when nights fall
they plummet.
Frost spreads
spiderweb fingers that
cover pumpkins
that should
have been collected
weeks ago.
I wonder
if birds will
ever share
their secret,
the time to
fly south.
Literature
River Dream
Where I exist, the seasons linger or
die too soon.
I cannot see the subtle changes, or
hear the cadence of their wings.
I feel the shift and taste the residue
between our lips,
and on the air where it also lingers.
His passing will bring the rain but
I covet him more, suspended as we are
between the seasons.
And when dusk is touched by the brows
of moths, he will fade away,
a harbinger of autumn's end before it
begins, while I drift a river dream
over which a new moon ascends.
An oar dips silently and I shiver.
Literature
reduction
I'll tell the truth:
I am a thief of the
worst persuasion.
if you want honesty,
I don't think that we will
last.
give it one or two
or three years—
years tense with opposing forces
and unusual magic—
and our reaction will be
complete. we will both
go back to our own kinds.
haven't they always defined love
in terms of chemistry?
(opposites attract,
but like dissolves like.)
and here is the confession:
here is why I am odious:
I know this and
I will not withdraw.
here is the electron bridge—here the
anode, cathode, the ill-fated
reactants.
I set this up like dominos;
I wield it lik
Literature
Clouds
When you walk to here and there,
Out in the streets or anywhere,
Look up to the skies in wondrous stare,
The clouds are asking for a thought to spare,
Do you realise now?
How the winds bring change,
And how we dream of better ways?
Go challenge the world you live in,
And broaden the mind you wander in,
Lost in the madness of a cloud,
Lost in a world of your own.
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I am wondering if this is so over-the-top whiny that it's impossible to read. Emotional poetry + Me = cry baby cry.
Also, I hate fall.
Also title suggestions? And comments/critiques very welcome!
For
's weekly prompt: Pumpkin patch
Also, I hate fall.
Also title suggestions? And comments/critiques very welcome!
For
's weekly prompt: Pumpkin patch © 2010 - 2024 Halatia
Comments58
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Overall Vision
Originality Technique ImpactHello <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/s/s…" width="15" height="15" alt="
" title=" (Smile)"/>You know all about how critique is supposed to work, so I'll just jump right in!
I absolutely LOVE that first stanza. The idea of morning - which is often associated with softness, quiet, contemplation, etc - shattering is shocking and beautiful. It sets us up to read a poem that's not run of the mill, which is very refreshing.
I think some of the wording in the next two stanza gets overly repetitive though. 'watery' 'raindrops' and then 'water' again within three lines is too much water. I see the image you're going for. Maybe instead of simply describing the scene, you can add some personality to it. For example:
"sun converting frost
to glistening beads
which kiss the last
brittle, blushing
chrysanthemums."
We get the same image, but with only one mention of water ('frost') and put some personification on both the dew and the flower. It's something to think about at any rate.
I assume the mention of tulips is in reference to their bulbs which, if I remember correctly, are generally planted in mid fall to early winter. I think to help cement that image, you could tell the reader that you are planting the bulbs and wondering if they hear your prayers for an early Spring. As is, it feels a little disconnected from the rest of the poem, despite the mention of flowers earlier.
The second half of the poem feels much weaker than the first half. Like you were just trying to balance out the day vs. the night. That's not always necessary, but if you do want to keep that balance in there, consider really digging into what actually happens at night. Besides frost spreading, what creatures come out? What stars can be seen? Are there plants that close up?
Again with the last two stanzas I run into a disconnected feeling. We go from talking about frost covered pumpkins to birds - which we generally see more of during the day. I like the idea behind the birds sharing their 'secret' and think it does make a good close to the poem. But it feels tacked on with no connection to the other thoughts.
Honestly, I feel that this would be better written as a sort of story poem. Someone puttering around in the garden and noticing the frost, the flowers, the birds, etc. You could even throw in some insects just to spice things up. <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/w/w…" width="15" height="15" alt="
" title=" (Wink)"/> If we're able to see what the narrator is doing, it will help connect the thoughts in a more logical and tangible way. I hope you find this helpful. I did enjoy the poem and <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/p/p…" width="15" height="16" alt="
" title="+fav"/>ed it. Keep working on it. You've got something worth expanding here.<img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/h/h…" width="15" height="13" alt="
" title="Heart"/>Lili