final version (thank you Tec, Tomh, Cidermaid, & trueenigma

Days roll by, one into another;
waves of melancholy.
Her lust for life's intensity is fading,
petals closing in the dark.

Dandelions flee past rustling curtains,
their parachutes carried by the wind,
escaping her sadness, a blanket of despair
they travel to their destiny.

Beyond dusty panes,
reflections of a woman,
lost in reverie.

Chafed hands fulfill their mission,
blooms of red and gold.
She listens for the thunder,
waiting for the lightning
to waken a lifeless world




Revised version 1

Days roll by, one into another.
Waves of melancholy.
Her lust for life's intensity is fading,
rose petals closing in the dark.

Past rustling curtains dandelions fly free,
fleeing parachutes carried by the wind,
escaping her sadness, a blanket of despair
they travel to their destiny.

Beyond dusty panes, reflections
of a woman tending a garden,
lost in reverie.

Her chafed hands fill their mission,
blooms of red and gold.
She listens for the thunder;
Waiting for the lightning
to waken a lifeless world.



Original

Through the rustling curtains
a damp breeze fills the room.
Beyond the dusty panes
the reflection of a woman
weeding her flower bed in the rain.

Undaunted by the cold
chafed hands attend her mission,
resolutely caring for the
blooms of red and gold.

She listens for thunder
to break the sound of silence,
a flash of lightning
to waken her lifeless world.

(05-08-2013, 11:27 PM)Heartafire Wrote:  Hi heart,
terse-verse again , eh? This is full of thinking. You are trying to take over your muse Imagery is NOT all. Though I confess that I like S1, I cannot love it. It is rhythmically like logs falling down a flight of stairs. You begin well. Nursery rhyme rhythm is one of my all time favourites because it heps to make the words stick. "Through the rustling CURtains, a damp breeze fills the room" is "Round and round the GARden, went the teddy-bear". Love it...but then...
Through the rustling curtains
a damp breeze fills the room.[/b]semicolon or the next line is airborn[/b]
Beyond the dusty panesI want "One step, two steps and tickle under there" but I don't get it. All change....but why?
the reflection of a woman
weeding her flower bed in the rain.Cold comfort to this nicely begun piece. What chance of rectification of rhythm? Your poem.

Undaunted by the cold
chafed hands attend her mission,
resolutely caring for the
blooms of red and gold. As a cameo, this is a good hook to hang your stanza on. As it is it is just too clinical. I expect an advertisement for hand-cream to follow. OK. You are going for terseness...brevity...but what of the content? "...chafed hands attend her mission" is just not lyrical enough. I am a little unsure about hands attending missions as it is. As I began...the distillate is good but you need to add water to make it flow. Too concentrated.

She listens for thunder
to break the sound of silence,
a flash of lightning
to waken her lifeless world.Here is a woman attending to life. She is cultivating what to many is the quintessential manifestation of all that is alive...flowers. She is celebrating her closeness to living things...she is nearer God's heart in her garden...why on earth is her world lifeless. This last stanza does not work for me...but I wish wholeheartedly that you could make it otherwise. You can. Add water and fertilise regularly.
Best,
tectak
Punctuation issues? Almost none. This is me liking a piece.

(05-08-2013, 11:57 PM)tectak Wrote:  

(05-08-2013, 11:27 PM)Heartafire Wrote:  Hi heart,
terse-verse again , eh? This is full of thinking. You are trying to take over your muse Imagery is NOT all. Though I confess that I like S1, I cannot love it. It is rhythmically like logs falling down a flight of stairs. You begin well. Nursery rhyme rhythm is one of my all time favourites because it heps to make the words stick. "Through the rustling CURtains, a damp breeze fills the room" is "Round and round the GARden, went the teddy-bear". Love it...but then...
Through the rustling curtains
a damp breeze fills the room.[/b]semicolon or the next line is airborn[/b]
Beyond the dusty panesI want "One step, two steps and tickle under there" but I don't get it. All change....but why?
the reflection of a woman
weeding her flower bed in the rain.Cold comfort to this nicely begun piece. What chance of rectification of rhythm? Your poem.

Undaunted by the cold
chafed hands attend her mission,
resolutely caring for the
blooms of red and gold. As a cameo, this is a good hook to hang your stanza on. As it is it is just too clinical. I expect an advertisement for hand-cream to follow. OK. You are going for terseness...brevity...but what of the content? "...chafed hands attend her mission" is just not lyrical enough. I am a little unsure about hands attending missions as it is. As I began...the distillate is good but you need to add water to make it flow. Too concentrated.

She listens for thunder
to break the sound of silence,
a flash of lightning
to waken her lifeless world.Here is a woman attending to life. She is cultivating what to many is the quintessential manifestation of all that is alive...flowers. She is celebrating her closeness to living things...she is nearer God's heart in her garden...why on earth is her world lifeless. This last stanza does not work for me...but I wish wholeheartedly that you could make it otherwise. You can. Add water and fertilise regularly.
Best,
tectak
Punctuation issues? Almost none. This is me liking a piece.

Hello Tec, thank you so much for the critique. You have nailed me with my terse-verse style. I am passing the blame on to my former mentor who never used a word that was not totally essential. I want to write a "fattie" (thank you , Serge). I will continue to strive in that direction. I can think of only a few pieces, with the exception of prose, where I have let it all hang out.
About the lady tending the garden, she is out there in her mundane world but needs more. Gardening is just a distraction shielding her from the banal and commonplace. Based on your opinion of this I am going to try to open it up...get into what is restricting this poor woman, perhaps set her free. Thank you again, I so appreciate your
help with this.
My best,
Heart

(05-09-2013, 02:00 AM)Heartafire Wrote:  

(05-08-2013, 11:57 PM)tectak Wrote:  

(05-08-2013, 11:27 PM)Heartafire Wrote:  Hi heart,
terse-verse again , eh? This is full of thinking. You are trying to take over your muse Imagery is NOT all. Though I confess that I like S1, I cannot love it. It is rhythmically like logs falling down a flight of stairs. You begin well. Nursery rhyme rhythm is one of my all time favourites because it heps to make the words stick. "Through the rustling CURtains, a damp breeze fills the room" is "Round and round the GARden, went the teddy-bear". Love it...but then...
Through the rustling curtains
a damp breeze fills the room.[/b]semicolon or the next line is airborn[/b]
Beyond the dusty panesI want "One step, two steps and tickle under there" but I don't get it. All change....but why?
the reflection of a woman
weeding her flower bed in the rain.Cold comfort to this nicely begun piece. What chance of rectification of rhythm? Your poem.

Undaunted by the cold
chafed hands attend her mission,
resolutely caring for the
blooms of red and gold. As a cameo, this is a good hook to hang your stanza on. As it is it is just too clinical. I expect an advertisement for hand-cream to follow. OK. You are going for terseness...brevity...but what of the content? "...chafed hands attend her mission" is just not lyrical enough. I am a little unsure about hands attending missions as it is. As I began...the distillate is good but you need to add water to make it flow. Too concentrated.

She listens for thunder
to break the sound of silence,
a flash of lightning
to waken her lifeless world.Here is a woman attending to life. She is cultivating what to many is the quintessential manifestation of all that is alive...flowers. She is celebrating her closeness to living things...she is nearer God's heart in her garden...why on earth is her world lifeless. This last stanza does not work for me...but I wish wholeheartedly that you could make it otherwise. You can. Add water and fertilise regularly.
Best,
tectak
Punctuation issues? Almost none. This is me liking a piece.

Dear Tec, thank you so much for the critique. You have nailed me with my terse-verse style. I am passing the blame on to my former mentor who never used a word that was not totally essentialtotally tautology Totally is not essential!. I want to write a "fattie" (thank you , Serge). I will continue to strive in that direction. I can think of only a few pieces, with the exception of prose, where I have let it all hang out.
About the lady tending the garden, she is out there in her mundane world but needs more. Gardening is just a distraction shielding her from the banal and commonplace. Based on your opinion of this I am going to try to open it up...get into what is restricting this poor woman, perhaps set her free. Thank you again, I so appreciate your
help with this.
My best,
Heart

Hi Heart,
Couldn't resist the ribbing! Totally essential in that context was a huge funny!
Back to the poem. Yes to your post-explanatory disclosure but surely this is worth making manifest IN the poem. I got it but that is the point. "I" got it. I would have liked my interpretation (not difficult) to be confirmed. The only thing your "poor" woman is suffering from is chafed hands...Jesus, there are worse things! I got a paper cut off toilet paper yesterday but I am over it now. This is a good snapshot. Make the video.
Best,
tectak

Working on it Tec, you have inspired me to go forward with this. If you can handle your tragedy ( paper cuts hurt like hell...what brand are you using?) I will be able to fatten this up an let you in to the back story.

S1 places the reader looking down at the woman below through a rain streaked window this all works for me but the dust seem out of place with breeze

S2 well balanced and sharp images very much enjoyed.

S3 closes the poem and make the heart drop a little, so all is good Sound of silence, I'm not sure about I would look for something other than sound. Hope this helps best... TOMH

(05-08-2013, 11:27 PM)Heartafire Wrote:  Through the rustling curtains
a damp breeze fills the room.
Beyond the dusty panes
the reflection of a woman
weeding her flower bed in the rain.

Undaunted by the cold
chafed hands attend her mission,
resolutely caring for the
blooms of red and gold.

She listens for thunder
to break the sound of silence,
a flash of lightning
to waken her lifeless world.

Hello Tomh, thank you so much, it is very helpful to me. I have made a revision, not sure it is any improvement, but gave it a shot
based on tec' suggestions. Again ,let m say how much I appreciate your reading and commenting.
my best,
Heart

Hello Heart,
I think you have made some nice changes in your edit.
Here are my thoughts below.


Days roll by, one into another.
Waves of melancholy.
Her lust for life's intensity is fading,
rose petals closing in the dark. This stanza is a big improvment, but i am not sure about the rose petals closing. Do roses close at night? (is a question i'm not sure either way), I have an image of them curling as the colour fades aways and then they fall in a rush at the slightest touch of wind or a knock. Also in my mind i do not see her as a rose, she reads as something which had more vigour and zest (in her day an out of the box person) perhaps more of a rambling rose or a morning glory. (sorry not very up on plants so this might be a weak suggestion)

Past rustling curtains dandelions fly free, Found the three F's in a sequence a bit much even with the coma and line work. Like the image and this stanza adds a lot to the read by way of story, so good edit work.
fleeing parachutes carried by the wind,
escaping her sadness, a blanket of despair Perhaps you could swap the fleeing on the above line with the escaping on this line over to distance the F's but keep the effect. Don't know if you can work with... escape chutes carried by the wind, fleeing her sadness. Just an idea
they travel to their destiny.

Beyond dusty panes, reflections
of a woman tending a garden,
lost in reverie.

Her chafed hands fill their mission,
blooms of red and gold.
She listens for the thunder;
Waiting for the lightning
to waken a lifeless world.


Think you did a good job with the story and setting your woman free. thanks for the read.
AJ.

Hi Cidermaid, thank you so much for stopping here. I like your suggestions and plan to make some edits accordingly. Your ideas
are winners!
my best
Heart

---

Days roll by, one into another.
Waves of melancholy.
Her lust for life's intensity is fading,
petals closing in the dark.

Past rustling curtains dandelions flee,
their parachutes carried by the wind,
escaping her sadness, a blanket of despair
they travel to their destiny.

Beyond dusty panes,
reflections of a woman,
lost in reverie.

Her chafed hands fill their mission,
blooms of red and gold.
She listens for the thunder.

Waiting for the lightning
to waken a lifeless world

(05-10-2013, 08:34 AM)trueenigma Wrote:  

(05-08-2013, 11:27 PM)Heartafire Wrote:  Final version

Days roll by, one into another.
Waves of melancholy. This feels like a fragment. it's a qualifying clause meant to be part of the previous sentence, and it cannot stand on its own.
Her lust for life's intensity is fading,
petals closing in the dark. nice

Past rustling curtains dandelions flee, whew! This line took some untangling. Why not "Dandelions flee past rusting curtains?
their parachutes carried by the wind,
escaping her sadness, a blanket of despair
they travel to their destiny. is her sadness a blanket of despair? Or are they traveling a blanket of despair? Both?

Beyond dusty panes,
reflections of a woman,
lost in reverie. Nice Senryu

Her chafed hands fill their mission, Fill, or fulfill?
blooms of red and gold.
She listens for the thunder,
waiting for the lightning
to waken a lifeless world




Revised version 1

Days roll by, one into another.
Waves of melancholy.
Her lust for life's intensity is fading,
rose petals closing in the dark.

Past rustling curtains dandelions fly free,
fleeing parachutes carried by the wind,
escaping her sadness, a blanket of despair
they travel to their destiny.

Beyond dusty panes, reflections
of a woman tending a garden,
lost in reverie.

Her chafed hands fill their mission,
blooms of red and gold.
She listens for the thunder;
Waiting for the lightning
to waken a lifeless world.



Original

Through the rustling curtains
a damp breeze fills the room.
Beyond the dusty panes
the reflection of a woman
weeding her flower bed in the rain.

Undaunted by the cold
chafed hands attend her mission,
resolutely caring for the
blooms of red and gold.

She listens for thunder
to break the sound of silence,
a flash of lightning
to waken her lifeless world.

I like it. I just feel like you should keep working on it.

Thanks enigma, you are right on target with your suggestions, good
eye, particularly with "fill", of course that should read "fulfill". I am going to edit this based on your comments, will revise the post rather than recopy this. Thanks so much!
Best,
Heart

(05-09-2013, 06:34 AM)Heartafire Wrote:  Working on it Tec, you have inspired me to go forward with this. If you can handle your tragedy ( paper cuts hurt like hell...what brand are you using?) I will be able to fatten this up an let you in to the back story.

Can't blame the paper..I am known to be thin skinned

Finally fessing up? Good boy, it feels good to come clean (no pun intended).
best!