05-19-2013, 04:49 PM
(05-18-2013, 07:10 AM)poeticdancer Wrote:Hello, poeticdancer. Thank you for your critique.(05-14-2013, 11:41 AM)Pilgrim Wrote: BotanicaOverall I thought this was a great read. Thanks for sharing.
Oh, for a garden like the one
that lately graced our urban street;
where florabunda bloomed profuse
and finch and magpie chanced to meet.
Where citrus hung in golden globes
to cushion winter’s creeping chill,
and pansies beds assured the world
that spring would keep her promise still.
It’s said the man who owned it waned I think the play of words in this staza is amazing
from grieving for his lifelong mate;
and in his potting shed arranged
with rope his life to terminate.
They’re ripping up the garden now this is the saddest part i think, the most powerful. A man who put such work into something, something that others enjoyed, just thrown away as if it never mattered.
to build a clutch of smart abodes
for business folk who can’t afford
to waste their time in useless modes.
While I get the point you were trying to make with this last stanza, it doesn't match up to power and imagery of the four above. Maybe the words "So", "weekend", and "neighbour" are what's throwing it off for me (personally). Maybe something like, "Today a friendly fellow brought"
So last weekend a neighbour brought
me floral tributes from the mall:
that panorama at the sink
and Monet’s garden in the hall. It should be "Monet's Garden" if it is the title of the art.
The imagery in the last stanza is a replication of an actual event of which I became aware. But I agree that it could seem out of context with what had preceded it. I’ll have a close look at a possible re-arrangement.
The actual title of the print in the hall was The Garden at Giverny which I more succinctly described to suit the stanza.
Thank you again for your interest.
Regards,
Pilgrim.
Rose-lipt maidens, lightfoot lads!

