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04-21-2011, 02:58 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-21-2011, 03:01 PM by billy.)
Dying angels in autumn leaves,
dance dark pirouettes.
The smell of earthy musk loiters,
like the ghost of breath.
Crippled in a stark naked crowd
my twisted oak is bared.
Summer, fickle summer has left.
I shall sulk for its warmth,
but first face the wicked winter.
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Except for the first comma, which I would remove as it makes for odd syntax, I can't see a thing wrong with this. Well maybe "summer, fickle summer" is a tad too poetical, as you would say, but it isn't a major problem. This poem reminds me of "Ode to Autumn" by John Keats. It evokes the same pleasent drowsiness in me. Good work Billy.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe
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thanks for the feedback jack
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(04-21-2011, 02:58 PM)billy Wrote: Dying angels in autumn leaves, The phrasing makes this image a little vague?
dance dark pirouettes.
The smell of earthy musk loiters,
like the ghost of breath.
Crippled in a stark naked crowd
my twisted oak is bared. Interesting image of being exposed
Summer, fickle summer has left.
I shall sulk for its warmth, Elegant use of "sulk" here
but first face the wicked winter.
A simple, effective mood piece. Nicely done.
PS. If you can, try your hand at giving some of the others a bit of feedback. If you already have, thanks, can you do some more?
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thanks for the kind words addy.
