11-26-2015, 02:41 PM
(11-26-2015, 02:18 PM)Brownie Wrote: The Saga
What once was green and gold of day
Has turned to black and brown and grey
And left to die upon the vine
As waters foul and start to brine
Squeezed from the sponge onto the stone
Cleaving the marrow from the bone im not a meter expert, but when I read it this line feels off
Taking with it the ways and means
To burn and thrive and carry the genes
A swamp wallowing in misery's air the wa wa of swamp swallowing is classy
Whose roots run deep and limbs stretch bare
Where the saga gleams bright in the noon day sun
Of no more that is that can be done there isn't a complete sentence here, at least, I can't make it out or the meaning. Punctuation, it's not just for prose anymore
When autumn bells ring round the land
Yet no leaves lay upon the sand
Who sings the words of solemn tune
For those who stand upon the dune
Along the hill of wooded pine pine trees don't change color, do they?
Losing the fight of great decline
Tapestries once woven in green
Unravel a golden threaded scene
Where fire has spread its fingers long
From first among the rocks held strong
Thought not to burn so far and wide
Contained to just one mountainside
But as is it's way, it found it's path its overload
And blackened all in aftermath
Choked the land in smoke and soot
To crush to dust under the foot
Turning what was bad into much worse
To what was already dried from thirst
Gasping words of the solemn tune
For those who dare to feel immune this like feels out of place. Rest of the poem is about nature (and destruction of nature) why bring up a crummy human for?
Higher still where snows settle in
Where storms gather and air is thin
We begin our quest for what its worth
To give our thanks for time on earth
Together we journey along meadow's edge
And tow our fortunes on weighted sleds
To sink our knees in icy bliss
Rejoicing in winter's first kiss winters first kiss is kinda cliche, it seems the poem is running out of gas... The imagery now is mostly rehash
Circles form in outward splay
Where children of the woodland play
Mellow notes rise on frosted breeze
Lingering awhile amongst the trees
We sing the song against the rend
And to life anew upon the mend
Rearrange the words of the solemn tune
So love goes on as carved in rune

