Edit 2: Some thoughts on spring

[Lydish]

Spring returns dressed in cherry blossoms and melts into the waiting laps of lovers embracing.

We run gentle fingers across the budding magnolias braided into his willow hair, falling into his eyes, brushing blushed cheeks in the wet smelling wind.

“Won’t you stay?” you ask, I whisper.

He caresses our lingering grasp with genteel grass. 



Spring lingered in the magnolia-fluttered grass until summer stormed in with windswept hair and wild eyes.

I could barely stand it. All that intense beauty gazing at me. So I sweat and I stuttered, until she left. She moved on.

But I am left in the aftermath of her whirlwind hurricane, panting, parched, exhausted.

The sun remains, though, and the grass still greens, and the river's still blue.

I drown the canal under rain-grey skies.



Spring eludes me, and I miss them.

Through snowmen, down ski hills, past grey-white-coloured highways. By yellow spots in snow banks left by pomeranians and dachshunds and hobos, too, at the empty soup kitchen door.

Dried magnolia petals crumble in my notebooks. Winter howls. Even my bones cry.
Each morning, I wake up straining for tinkle melting sounds and the birds who will flock to see my spring, then sleep another day.

Edit #1:

Spring returns dressed in cherry blossoms and melts into the waiting laps of embracing lovers. 
We run gentle fingers across the budding magnolias braided into his willow hair, falling into his eyes, brushing blushed cheeks in the wet smelling wind. 
“Won’t you stay?” Our whispered wonder. 
He caresses our lingering grasp with genteel grass. 

Spring lingered in the magnolia covered grass until summer stormed in, 
furious hurricane hair with cheerful wildflower eyes. 
Summer stomps, a tornado through town—hot passion and sunburnt weathered arms.
Summer leaves paradise with sweating skies and drowning rivers, a parched paradox 

Spring is two steps forwards, and I am one step back.
Through snowmen, down ski hills, past coal smudged highways. By yellow spots in snow banks left by shivering chihuahuas and shitzus and hobos, too, hoping for goodness outside empty soup kitchens. 
Winter is a sleeping bear whose stomach howls for sustenance. No one wakes.  

We float down rivers brushed with green-again willow trees, sun recovering icy banks; we are cherry blossoms dancing across smooth waves and tadpole pools.
We dream of spring. 

Edit #2:

Spring returns dressed in cherry blossoms and sun-glowed cheeks, and melts into my waiting embrace.
His willow hair brushes blushed cheeks in a wet smelling wind. Magnolias bud from the braided branches and I run wanting fingers through them, whisper-wondering:
“Won’t you stay?” 
He caresses my lingering grasp with genteel grass. 

Spring stays in the scent of magnolia spread like jam across grass.
But summer storms in, furious hurricane hair, blown wildflower eyes.
She tears through town—hot passion and sunburnt weathered arms—searching, wanting.
Summer is sweating skies and an abrupt goodbye, drowning rivers. 

Spring is two steps forwards, and I am one step back.
I breathe in-out on frozen rivers, iced with diamonds;
a dazzling world, lit from without.

(Without sunlight, reality doesn’t sparkle, but calls from winds barrelling through thin walls; from hungry stomachs in soup kitchens with no soup; from wet boots down city streets covered in grey snow; a world smudged—drawn—with charcoal. )

Spring is tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow lit by dreamy sunlight; a future I waltz with but never bring home. 
I am today and today and today, rowing down streams decorated with green-again willows in a world still grey. 


--

Did some major pruning the past few weeks, and have been playing around with structure and content.

Grateful for any commentary and criticism as always :

[fuzzyllama1]

Spring returns dressed in cherry blossoms and melts into the waiting laps of lovers embracing.
We run gentle fingers across the budding magnolias braided into his willow hair, falling into his eyes, brushing blushed cheeks in the wet smelling wind. - I'm liking the mixed gender descriptions of Spring. I've always pictured him as a more feminine character. I also like how you incorporate all the senses in your imagery.
“Won’t you stay?” you ask, I whisper. - Are you and Spring talking in unison here or is it another person? If it's Spring, I think "He" should be used instead of the informal "you". The whisper to me shows that you seem to know the answer to your question already.
He caresses our lingering grasp with genteel grass. - I like how he doesn't respond with words. It is a gentle way to respond to such a question and that makes the use of genteel to describe the grass even more brilliant.

Spring lingered in the magnolia-fluttered grass until summer stormed in with windswept hair and wild eyes.
I could barely stand it. All that intense beauty gazing at me. So I sweat and I stuttered, until she left. She moved on.  - Seems like we spent too short of a time with Summer. Summers are usually long, hot, and arduous. I think maybe you could add more description/imagery of Summer's unbearable beauty. 
But I am left in the aftermath of her whirlwind hurricane, panting, parched, exhausted.
The sun remains, though, and the grass still greens, and the river's still blue.
I drown the canal under rain-grey skies.

Spring eludes me, and I miss them. - Confused on "them" as the pronoun here. Spring and Summer?
Through snowmen, down ski hills, past grey-white-coloured highways. By yellow spots in snow banks left by pomeranians and dachshunds and hobos, too, at the empty soup kitchen door. - Didn't think it was possible to find the image of hobos peeing in snow to be beautiful. Thank you for proving me wrong.
Dried magnolia petals crumble in my notebooks. Winter howls. Even my bones cry.
Each morning, I wake up straining for tinkle melting sounds and the birds who will flock to see my spring, then sleep another day. "Tinkle melting sounds" doesn't please my ear, especially followed by straining. I'm left somewhat unsatisfied here. I think the ending can be extended and/or improved.


Never happy with my attempts at prose poetry. Thanks for any critique!

The first stanza I find extraordinary. Summer and Winter I think need to be revisited. Overall this is lovely. I am a sucker for poetry about the seasons.

[Mbelcher]

Spring returns dressed in cherry blossoms and melts into the waiting laps of lovers embracing. 
We run gentle fingers across the budding magnolias braided into his willow hair, falling into his eyes, brushing blushed cheeks in the wet smelling wind. 
“Won’t you stay?” you ask, I whisper. 
He caresses our lingering grasp with genteel grass. 

not a bad way to start, you bring in many common spring themes right off the bat that makes anyone reminiscent of those memories maybe add more that can provide the full detail to bring in the reader more.

Spring lingered in the magnolia-fluttered grass until summer stormed in with windswept hair and wild eyes. 
I could barely stand it. All that intense beauty gazing at me. So I sweat and I stuttered, until she left. She moved on. 
But I am left in the aftermath of her whirlwind hurricane, panting, parched, exhausted. 
The sun remains, though, and the grass still greens, and the river's still blue. 
I drown the canal under rain-grey skies.

a breakup perhaps? or the feeling of spring moving on... perhaps both but my point is this is a great way to present it here.

Spring eludes me, and I miss them. 
Through snowmen, down ski hills, past grey-white-coloured highways. By yellow spots in snow banks left by pomeranians and dachshunds and hobos, too, at the empty soup kitchen door. 
Dried magnolia petals crumble in my notebooks. Winter howls. Even my bones cry. 
Each morning, I wake up straining for tinkle melting sounds and the birds who will flock to see my spring, then sleep another day.

I would advise a revision here in bold perhaps a suggestion could be " I wake up straining to see the snow washed away in the warm rains to reveal the green flowing grass and the birds who return to see my spring.

the "then sleep another day" makes the ending a little confusing. you seem to dream for spring even to the previous sentence then sleeping another day is either a way to convey to see spring come and go again. In my opinion a revison as suggestion to the last line and the possible elimination to the sleep another day will end this very well. Just my thoughts otherwise this was very well done you conveyed your message very well. 
\
A- for an academic grade 

[nibbed]

Spring returns dressed in cherry blossoms and melts into the waiting laps of lovers embracing. [laps?]
We run gentle fingers across the budding magnolias [braided into his willow hair, falling into his eyes], brushing blushed cheeks in the wet smelling wind.
“Won’t you stay?” you ask, I whisper.                                                                                  [love this]
He caresses our lingering grasp with genteel grass. 

Spring lingered in the [magnolia-fluttered grass] until summer stormed in with windswept hair and wild eyes.
[not sure what that is]
I could barely stand it. All that intense beauty gazing at me. So I sweat and I stuttered, until she left. She moved on.
But I am left in the aftermath of her whirlwind hurricane, panting, parched, exhausted.
The sun remains, though, [and] the grass still greens, and the river's still blue.
I [drown] the canal under rain-grey skies.
[not sure that fits]                                                                       

Spring eludes me, and I miss them.
Through snowmen, down ski hills, past grey-white-coloured highways. By yellow spots in snow banks left by pomeranians and dachshunds [,and] hobos, too, at the empty soup kitchen door.                                                                                                                
[Dried] magnolia petals crumble in my notebooks. Winter howls. Even my bones cry.
[another word choice here, perhaps]
Each morning, I wake up straining for tinkle melting sounds and the birds who will flock to see my spring, [then sleep another day]. [the birds?]
                                                                                                                                                                      

I like how you personify Spring in a male/female form
and bring them together in the last stanza, as one.
I would prefer the longer lines find more breaks.
I'd work out/clean up some of those prepositions.


nibbed

[alatos]

I really enjoyed reading this poem. I think the personification works well, and I like the specific imagery: "Spring lingered in the magnolia-fluttered grass until summer stormed in with windswept hair and wild eyes."

That's probably my vote for strongest line in the poem. Or maybe "Dried magnolia petals crumble in my notebooks."

I think "Even my bones cry." is bordering on a cliche, but maybe not. It's hard to say something new about the seasons, but this was a nice poem. The concrete, simple imagery makes it more likable than many poems, in my opinion. 

[Lydish]

Hi all! I can't believe it's been two months since I've posted this, but I've worked a lot to try and rewrite and edit this poem since reading your comments. I agree for sure that the first stanza was the strongest in the poem, and had a lot of trouble trying to improve the second and third stanzas to be honest. But now there are four! Thank you all again for your detailed edits and commentaries!

[Knot]

Hi Lydish, some nice images and phrases here,
and I think the edit certainly improves on the original,
however, I don't think your title does enough
and it becomes less relevant as the poem progresses.

Spring returns dressed in cherry blossoms,
and melts into the waiting laps of embracing lovers.
Nice opening, but the jump from 'spring' to 'we' seems a bit abrupt,
so I'd suggest re-framing the piece in couplets.
Is 'laps' just there for the alliteration?
(If it melts (which implies some form of liquid)
into their laps then the image is close to one of incontinence)

We run gentle fingers across the budding magnolias
braided into his willow hair, falling into his eyes,
nice line

brushing blushed cheeks in the wet smelling wind.
A bit too overwrought, I think. Not sure you need it.

Spring lingered in the magnolia covered grass
not keen on the repetition of grass or magnolia
until summer stormed in, furious [all] hurricane hair with cheerful [and] wildflower eyes.
you don't need 'furious' after 'stormed', and both are a bit at odds with 'cheerful'.

“Won’t you stay?” Our whispered wonder.
He caresses our lingering grasp with genteel grass.
'grasp' and 'grass' don't make for particularly good sonics.
Also 'lingered' then 'lingering'.
Why do they want Spring to stay?

Summer stomps, a tornado through town—hot passion and sunburnt weathered arms.
again rather overwritten. First a hurricane now a tornado? It just feel like repetition.
I think if you could be a bit more concise, using sunburnt, weathered arms,
sweating skies and drowning rivers (nice line by the way), it would improve things.
Summer leaves paradise with sweating skies and drowning rivers, a parched paradox

I don't really know what to make of these two stanzas, there's an unexplained move
from the opening 'rural/idyll' scene to an 'urban' one, no sign of Autumn and nothing
about how this season affects the 'we' in Spring. Then there is 'I' all of a sudden.
Spring is two steps forwards, and I am one step back.
Through snowmen, down ski hills, past coal smudged highways. By yellow spots in snow banks left by shivering chihuahuas and shitzus and hobos, too, hoping for goodness outside empty soup kitchens.
there's an ambiguity with 'hoping for goodness outside...'
Either they are outside hoping for goodness (from the kitchen) or
it is outside (the kitchen) where they hope to find goodness.
Winter is a sleeping bear whose stomach howls for sustenance. No one wakes.

We float down rivers brushed with green-again willow trees, sun recovering icy banks; we are cherry blossoms dancing across smooth waves and tadpole pools.
We dream of spring.
No idea who 'we' is now, nor why they've returned to the piece, and where has 'I' gone?
If there's a narrative linking the seasons/passage of the year, I'm afraid it eludes me.
After a strong start it just seems to lose its way, or perhaps that was just me.


Best, Knot.

[Achebe]

This is beautiful, almost Walt Whitman like
“Spring is two steps forward and I am one step back” is fine poetry. It’s a pity you don’t do more with that beautiful, enigmatic line.
Great job

---

I’ll try and contribute something more substantial later if I can

[Lydish]

Hi Knot,

Thanks for the detailed commentary/criticism! I definitely took it into account while working on the current edit.

I actually specifically wanted to write this piece as prose poetry, and am still working on how to make it flow better that way. I agree that the title doesn't do much (I'm always terrible at titles), but also realized that the summer section was there a bit gratuitously...so I took that whole section out. The focus really is meant to be spring, so hopefully the new edit reflects that better. Been having trouble trying to express the idea behind it all, so hopefully it's a bit more clear now.

Let me know what you think!

Thanks,
Lydish

[Knot]

Hey Lydia,
haven't you been busy? Some bold cuts which have certainly improved things.
You said you've been 'having trouble trying to express the idea behind it all'
and reading it I'm wondering if it's because there's more than one idea,
and if they're all jostling for space.
Perhaps this isn't a single poem?

Anyway, here's my critique.

I think this should be where you start.
Spring is two steps forwards,
and I am one step back.
I breathe in-out on frozen rivers, iced with diamonds;
No comma after 'forwards'.
It's ambiguous as to what is 'iced with diamonds'.
Also, 'iced', after 'frozen', seems redundant
a dazzling world, lit from without.
It might work better as a single sentence/thought. Something like;
Spring is two steps forwards,
I am one step back
breathing in on frozen rivers
breathing out [..?..];
a dazzling world,
lit from without.

(Without sunlight, reality doesn’t sparkle, but calls from winds barrelling through thin walls; from hungry stomachs in soup kitchens with no soup; from wet boots down city streets covered in grey snow; a world smudged—drawn—with charcoal. )
The problem here is you've just described a 'dazzling world' and 'diamonds'
but now you say 'reality doesn't sparkle'. Rather inconsistent.
Also, I don't understand what you trying to say here, but I think the 'city' scene is a good sketch,
you just need to find a better way into it.
It might help, and be more ironic, to go straight from 'lit from without' to
wet boots [what are they doing?] city streets,
soups kitchens of empty stomachs (should you want a less prose-like phrase)
and a couple more examples (what happened to the coal on highways, for instance)

Spring is tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow lit by dreamy sunlight; a future I waltz with but never bring home.
I am today and today and today, rowing down streams decorated with green-again willows in a world still grey.
Do you really want the Macbeth association of 'tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow'?
Why not just,
Spring is always tomorrow ?
a future I waltz with but never bring home.
I like the line, though perhaps simply 'dance' rather then 'waltz'?
You could also rework this with the first stanza (see below).

I am today and today and today, rowing down streams decorated with green-again willows in a world still grey.
Lost again (I'm afraid), you are also now 'rowing down streams'
where before you were breathing on 'frozen rivers'.
If this is the thaw, then I'd want more of a sense that time has passed.

Spring returns dressed in cherry blossoms
and sun-glowed cheeks, and
melts into my waiting embrace.
'melts' seems wrong here.
I'd have though something more to do with
budding/flowering/growing might be more appropriate.
His willow hair brush[ing]blushed cheeks
[blushing] in a wet smelling wind.
('smelling' seems a very poor choice)
from the braided branches
Magnolias bud and I run
wanting fingers through them,
(I like how 'wanting' could be misheard as 'wanton')
whisper-wondering:
“Won’t you stay?”
He caresses my lingering grasp with genteel grass.
'Won't you stay' would make for a better ending, I think.

To be honest I think this stanza is of a completely different tone (romantic/erotic)
to the others and works perfectly on its own. My advice is cut this out and repost as a separate poem.
Something like

Spring Returns

dressed in cherry blossoms
he melts into my waiting embrace;
willow hair brushing cheeks,
blushing in a wet smelling wind.

From the braided branches
Magnolias bud and I run
wanting fingers through them,
“Won’t you stay?”

Similarly, you might consider;

Spring Waltz

Spring is always tomorrow
A future I dance with
but never bring home.

[he is] two steps forwards,
I am one step back
breathing in on frozen rivers

breathing out [..?..];
a dazzling world,
lit from without.


Best, Knot