Kingdom of the Sun(new title and edit)

[Miley]

Hello, I just read the newest version and none of the previous critiques, so I may have missed something. I'm actually not sure what this poem is saying. I take it as a sort of reverie, but then the images feel so specific to the renaissance or something, I think, why is the sun telling the narrator about renfest? Of course, it doesn't need to be taken that literal, but I'm still not sure what it is trying to say. I did getting the feeling reading this that you enjoy writing. For me some of the images maybe balance between beautiful and garish, an example "Hear the courtesans whisper under verdant eaves"


OK I read the thread... the references are to different animals in nature? I maybe could of got that. I think this version of the poem is the best yet. If these characters are nature creatures, maybe some more specific details would have got me there.

I see how the last line lets us know the narrator isn't doing his chores I guess, but I think it could be more interesting, for me it just reiterates. I like that it takes us out of the reverie, maybe it could land on an image of the narrator or the patio, just an idea... or something unexpected ha

Follow the Sun

 

Steaming mug of patio peace, 
bittered by nagging chore.
Get on with your day. OK im totally with you here in this first stanza, maybe its a little twee but its nice

Sweet sun whispers in my ear,
“stay …,

watch the regent, orange and black, Not sure about regent
flutter, in conversation 
with the wind. Pretty stanza, on my first read I assumed orange and black were colours of the sky... later realized they may not be with all this talk of huntsman and jesters, but then orange and black is a sunset, nagging chores took me to the AM in our patio scene

Admire the Huntsman,
done his nightly prowls, grammer is a little weird with "done"
as he naps in the sun. Sun says sun?
The blue vested jester chiding
his smug indifference.

Be intoxicated by perfumed maidens,
splendent in star-white bonnets.

Hear the courtesans whisper under verdant eaves
as the choir sings their morning song.

Miss the dapper gents,
their yellow hats stowed away.

Pity the chitinous footmen tending every need,
dutifully abstaining from the pageantry.”

Today, my attentions drift with the sun.

Patio Distractions


Mug in hand, absorbing
morning patio peace.
Disturbed.
Errand and chore.
Insistent clamoring,
to get on with my day.

Their call hard to hear,
the sun whispering in my ear,
stay, see what fun we’ll have…

watching the regent, orange and black
flutter by in negotiation
with the wind.

Admiring the Huntsman,
done his nightly prowls,
as he naps in the sun.
Chided by the blue jester,
for his smug indifference.

Being intoxicated by perfumed maidens,
splendent in star-white bonnets,
impressed with their own poise.

Pitying the chitinous footmen tending every need,
dutifully abstained from the pageantry.

Hearing the courtesans’ whispers under verdant eaves
as the choir sings their morning song.

My attentions drift 
among wood and fern.
Needs of the Day banished,
never to return.

Patio distractions

 

Early risers,

errand and chore.

Clamor for me to

start my day.

 

Their call is hard to hear,

with the sun in my ear,

whispering, “stay with me.”

 

Watch a Monarch in flight

converse with the wind.

 

The bee flirts with

pistol and stamen.

 

Admire Simon done his nightly prowls,

smug in his cat way.

 

Hear the secret whispers of leaves

on the gentle breeze,

as birds do sing their morning songs.

 

Smell the perfume of star-white peonies,

dutiful ants lending aid.

 

The Needs of the Day

must best wood and fern

lest my attentions drift away.
Impatiently, they wait their turn.

Errand and chore
always early risers,
clamor, to start my day.
 
Hard to hear,
the sun in my ear,
“sit with me and,”
 
see the reagent, orange and black
flutter by in parley
with the wind.
 
admire the Huntsman done his nightly prowls,
smug in his way, chided by
blue vested jester,
perched on high.
 
be intoxicated by perfumed maidens,
doffed in star-white bonnets
self-impressed with their foliage.
 
pity the chitinous footmen tending every need,
dutifully indifferent to the pageantry.
 
Hear the courtesans’ whispers under verdant eaves
as the choir sings their morning song.
 
Were I king of wood and fern,
I’d bide Needs of the Day
await your turn.