Seasons and Spirits

[RiverNotch]

I can feel the heat of summer
swinging with your every gesture.
Writhing on your swollen nest
are my fingers, wine-stained serpents.

Smells of freshly drafted cider
ripple from your girt and navel.
Spirits blue with autumn's bite
stalk to steal our love away.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
refill your bosom with hot blood.
The fearless rhythm of our love
blushes the winter blind beyond.

You're wearing gaudy chintz again:
honeybees waltz to your spring figure.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
dreaming sweetly in our cellar.

I can feel the heat of summer
swinging with your every gesture.
Writhing on your swollen nest
are my fingers, wine-stained serpents.

Smells of freshly drafted cider
ripple from your supple navel.
Spirits blue with autumn's bite
follow this scent to steal our youth.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
refill your bosom with hot blood.
The rhythm of our winter love
blushes the silver blind beyond.

Your old sundress on display:
spring's honeyed musk returning.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
dreaming sweetly in our cellar.

Here's a metered version of the poem, with an emphasis on changes associated with the seasons. Not much different from the rest, I have to note.

I can feel the heat of summer swinging
with your every humid whisper.
Writhing on your ruddy temples
are my fingers, greedy wine-stained serpents.

Smells of freshly-drafted cider
ripple from your noble dimples.
Bothering spirits blue with autumn's bite
follow this scent to steal our love away.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
refill your shriveled bosom with hot blood.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
conquers the silver blind beyond.

Flowers are blooming on your skin again:
your vernal musk, your honey's wax, returns.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
dreaming sweetly in our cellar.

Yes, the meter is meant to be inconstant, but there's a sort of pattern with how it goes. And I do feel that iambic would capture the heat and slow nature of summer better, with trochaic being stronger for the reverse, but I'd like to think that the meter is meant to capture the spirit of the seasons themselves, rather than just the spirits of the characters: summer is usually a much livelier time than winter. I'm a bit bothered by the feminine ending of the first stanza getting in the way of the spondee, which sort of breaks the sense of doing spondees at both ends, and I'm also bothered with the slowness of the final stanza. I'm also a bit insecure with how the images work, whether the whole thing is strong and vivid enough to be effective. But thanks for the coming feedback!

Old edits:

A play on a different idea:
I can feel the heat of summer swinging
to every humid breath you take.
Rapping on your radiant temples
are my greedy fingers, ten wine-stained snakes.

The bitter atmosphere of fall
nips at your nose, the wilting rose.
Enthralling smells of cider, freshly-pressed,
and boiling sap still oozes from your skin.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
refill your shriveled bosom with hot blood.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
restrains the silver blind beyond.

You're wearing that shift of flowers again:
your vernal musk, your honey's golden wax.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
unsullied in our dim cellar.

First edit:
I can feel the heat of summer swinging
to every humid breath you take.
Rapping on your radiant temples
are my greedy fingers, ten wine-stained snakes.

The bitter atmosphere of fall
nips at your nose, the noble hill.
Enthralling smells of cider, freshly-pressed,
and boiling maple sap bleed from your skin.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
refill your trembling bosom with hot blood.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
blushes the silver blind beyond.

You're wearing that shift of flowers again:
your vernal musk, the wax to your honey.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
sleeping soundly in our cellar.

Original:
I can feel the heat of summer swinging
to every humid breath you take.
Rapping on your pallid temples
are my greedy fingers, ten wine-stained snakes.

The bitter atmosphere of fall
nips at your nose, the noble hill.
Enthralling smells of cider, freshly-pressed,
and boiling maple sap bleed from your skin.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
are passions we behold while in these chains.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
blushes the silver blind beyond.

You're wearing that shift of flowers again:
your vernal musk, the wax to your honey.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
unsullied in our dim cellar.

[RSaba]

I like this. It reads to me slowly but surely, like a muggy summer day. I think the reason for this is the way each line is half of a sentence and each stanza is two sentences -- that predictability makes me feel safe while reading it and I like that. I hope these little comments help. I didn't have much. Haven't been on this site in a while, so my critique game may be rusty!

I can feel the heat of summer swinging
along to every humid breath you take.
Rapping on your pallid temples why are their temples pallid?
are my greedy fingers, ten wine-stained snakes. love this line. great image.


The bitter atmosphere of fall
nips at your nose, the noble hill.
Enthralling smells of cider, freshly-pressed,
and boiling maple sap bleed from your skin. great description. I could smell the cider and sap! 

Blossoming flames and heady beer
are passions we behold while in these chains. which chains? I love the first line, but the second one loses the image for me.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
blushes the silver blind beyond. these two lines are great although exactly what the "silver blind beyond" is escapes me. It sounds nice though.

You're wearing that shift of flowers again:
your vernal musk, the wax to your honey.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
unsullied in our dim cellar. great way to end the piece!

I like the images this conjures up and I can't wait to read the final copy. 
Cheers,
Rosa

[RiverNotch]

Gotta note that I'm trying to keep the number of syllables as constant as possible (10 or 8 syllables per line, with each stanza containing a total of 36 syllables each), so I can't really add or subtract whole chunks of sounds, and the poem does have a rhyme scheme, albeit a very subtle one. I can really only change the words up a bit (although later on, if it's really demanded of me, I could change the entire structure of the poem).

Hmm....yeah, pallid may not be a good word to have used, there. I always think of paleness as a mark of beauty, but now, since that stanza's set in the summer, I don't think calling her pale there's really appropriate.

The chains are the chains of winter, ie the two lovers can't really move around as much because of the cold. The silver blind beyond is the outside world, all covered in fog and snow. If you haven't noticed, each stanza pertains to a specific season in the proper order, starting with summer and ending with spring, so at that point it's already winter for the speaker.

Anyway, thanks for the feedback! I'll change that one word later, when I've finished a little errand I have to work on today (to be specific, buying this hard to find anatomy book).

[RSaba]

I appreciate you wanting to stick to your rhyme scheme, so kudos! And yes, I did notice the season-stanzas. I liked that about the piece, how I knew each season was going to be the same length and style. Thanks for listening, and good luck finding that book!

[billy]

i couldn't find the rhyme scheme, can you point it out please, will come back to give a more in depth crit as soon as i get the chance.

Gotta note that I'm trying to keep the number of syllables as constant as possible (10 or 8 syllables per line, with each stanza containing a total of 36 syllables each), so I can't really add or subtract whole chunks of sounds, and the poem does have a rhyme scheme, albeit a very subtle one. I can really only change the words up a bit (although later on, if it's really demanded of me, I could change the entire structure of the poem).

Hmm....yeah, pallid may not be a good word to have used, there. I always think of paleness as a mark of beauty, but now, since that stanza's set in the summer, I don't think calling her pale there's really appropriate.

The chains are the chains of winter, ie the two lovers can't really move around as much because of the cold. The silver blind beyond is the outside world, all covered in fog and snow. If you haven't noticed, each stanza pertains to a specific season in the proper order, starting with summer and ending with spring, so at that point it's already winter for the speaker.

Anyway, thanks for the feedback! I'll change that one word later, when I've finished a little errand I have to work on today (to be specific, buying this hard to find anatomy book).

[RiverNotch]

...swinging...
...Rapping...

...of fall....
...Enthrall...

...dy beer...
...The fear...

...again...
...A glen...

They're not perfect rhymes, but they're all there.

[billy]

after seeing your reply to saba, i have to ask why the set number of syllables per verse yet anon constant number per line. also; was there a reason in using syllables instead of a consistent meter? (just curious)

the poem;


for me it feels like it's trying to hard. i think you restrict the poem by using the count you have in such a way that the poem struggles to move from one season to the next. some of the images work well, the greedy wine stained fingers, the bitter atmosphere of fall. A glen of cherry cordial lies. these are keepers. specially the lies which adds a layer of intrigue to the piece.

First edit (terribly tiny):

I can feel the heat of summer swinging is [can] needed? i know you're aiming at a set count syl-wise but a redundancy is a redundancy
to every humid breath you take.
Rapping on your radiant temples
are my greedy fingers, ten wine-stained snakes. feels a little awkward but i like image and the intent

The bitter atmosphere of fall
nips at your nose, the noble hill. should it be a semi colon instead of the first comma?
Enthralling smells of cider, freshly-pressed, is the first comma needed?
and boiling maple sap bleed from your skin.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
are passions we behold while in these chains. what chains? (the metaphorical chains or winter?)
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
blushes the silver blind beyond.

You're wearing that shift of flowers again: i like the image of spring you set up here
your vernal musk, the wax to your honey.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
unsullied in our dim cellar.

a rhyme scheme usually has a pattern which is made up of the end rhymes. you can have aabb or abab, or abc , or a multitude of other schemes. as far as know having a word that end a sentence and a word that begins one two lines down doesn't count as a rhyme scheme (it's the reason it seems subtle, it doesn't exist)

here's something i got from the net about rhymes to save me some time;

The poet who wishes to write a rhyming poem has several different sorts of rhyme from which to choose. Some are strong, some more subtle, and all can be employed as the poet sees fit. The following are some of the main types : 


End Rhymes
Rhyming of the final words of lines in a poem. The following, for example, is from Seamus Heaney’s “Digging” :

     Under my window, a clean rasping sound
     When the spade sinks into gravelly ground 


Internal Rhymes
Rhyming of two words within the same line of poetry. The following, for example, is from Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven” :

     Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
     Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, 


Slant Rhymes (sometimes called imperfect, partial, near, oblique, off etc.)
Rhyme in which two words share just a vowel sound (assonance – e.g. “heart” and “star”) or in which they share just a consonant sound (consonance – e.g. “milk” and “walk”). Slant rhyme is a technique perhaps more in tune with the uncertainties of the modern age than strong rhyme. The following example is also from Seamus Heaney’s “Digging” :

     Between my finger and my thumb
     The squat pen rests; snug as a gun 


Rich Rhymes
Rhyme using two different words that happen to sound the same (i.e. homonyms) – for example “raise” and “raze”. The following example – a triple rich rhyme – is from Thomas Hood’s” A First Attempt in Rhyme” :

     Partake the fire divine that burns,
     In Milton, Pope, and Scottish Burns,
     Who sang his native braes and burns. 


Eye Rhymes
Rhyme on words that look the same but which are actually pronounced differently – for example “bough” and “rough”. The opening four lines of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18, for example, go :

     Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
     Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
     Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
     And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:

Here, “temperate” and “date” look as though they rhyme, but few readers would pronounce “temperate” so that they did. Beware that pronunciations can drift over time and that rhymes can end up as eye rhymes when they were originally full (and vice versa). 


Identical Rhymes
Simply using the same word twice. An example is in (some versions of) Emily Dickinson’s “Because I Could not Stop for Death” :

     We paused before a House that seemed
     A Swelling of the Ground—
     The Roof was scarcely visible—
     The Cornice—in the Ground— 


It’s clear there is often a certain amount of overlap between rhyme and other poetical devices such as assonance

[RiverNotch]

Alright. I suppose the rhyme scheme doesn't exist. But when I wrote that, it was somewhat of an afterthought anyway, so if need be, I'll discard it. I'll be changing the second line of the third stanza too, since it is awkward, and me having to explain the chains is not a good thing.

[ellajam]

Even though the rhyme scheme may be unnoticeable until pointed out, I wouldn't ditch it unless you found yourself sacrificing something else for its sake. Sometimes those underlying techniques add to the appeal of a poem even if the reader does not know why at first.

[billy]

Alright. I suppose the rhyme scheme doesn't exist. But when I wrote that, it was somewhat of an afterthought anyway, so if need be, I'll discard it. I'll be changing the second line of the third stanza too, since it is awkward, and me having to explain the chains is not a good thing.

no need to edit out any words unless they don't work within the poem. not all poetry needs to rhyme. removing words won't make it not rhyme any better

one thing i'm admiring is the fact you want to sort the poem out, that's a huge part of work-shopping,
the main thing for me was the meter using a set amount of syllables can work but in general a good meter gives the poem a better chance of not jarring as it's being read. all just suggestions of course as the poem is always yours.

[ellajam]

Hi, River, a few notes on your recent changes.

A play on a different idea:
I can feel the heat of summer swinging
to every humid breath you take.
Rapping on your radiant temples
are my greedy fingers, ten wine-stained snakes.

The bitter atmosphere of fall
nips at your nose, the wilting rose.
Enthralling smells of cider, freshly-pressed,
and boiling sap still oozes from your skin.
I  prefer "noble hill" to "wilting rose", for me a much more interesting tie to fall and nose. I also prefer "and boiling maple sap bleed from your skin". "Still" seems like it's there just to use "ooze".

Blossoming flames and heady beer
refill your shriveled bosom with hot blood.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
restrains the silver blind beyond.

You're wearing that shift of flowers again:
your vernal musk, your honey's golden wax.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
unsullied in our dim cellar.
I'm still undecided on the honey/was change but in the current last line I think you could consider cutting dim, or use asleep instead of sleeping followed by deep or down. Just  a thought.

First edit:
I can feel the heat of summer swinging
to every humid breath you take.
Rapping on your radiant temples
are my greedy fingers, ten wine-stained snakes.

The bitter atmosphere of fall
nips at your nose, the noble hill.
Enthralling smells of cider, freshly-pressed,
and boiling maple sap bleed from your skin.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
refill your trembling bosom with hot blood.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
blushes the silver blind beyond.

You're wearing that shift of flowers again:
your vernal musk, the wax to your honey.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
sleeping soundly in our cellar.

Original:
I can feel the heat of summer swinging
to every humid breath you take.
Rapping on your pallid temples
are my greedy fingers, ten wine-stained snakes.

The bitter atmosphere of fall
nips at your nose, the noble hill.
Enthralling smells of cider, freshly-pressed,
and boiling maple sap bleed from your skin.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
are passions we behold while in these chains.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
blushes the silver blind beyond.

You're wearing that shift of flowers again:
your vernal musk, the wax to your honey.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
unsullied in our dim cellar.

Thanks for the read and interesting edits.

[RiverNotch]

Thanks for the critiques! Here are my responses:

"I prefer "noble hill" to "wilting rose", for me a much more interesting tie to fall and nose."
I was playing with the idea of the girl decaying into winter then getting completely renewed by the spring. She wilts at autumn, then her breasts are all shriveled up at winter, then she's nice and fresh again at spring. Although, yeah, it definitely sounds more interesting....I'll have to think about that.

"I also prefer "and boiling maple sap bleed from your skin". "Still" seems like it's there just to use "ooze"."
I changed that because I felt that that was a bit iffy on the meter, but now that I hear it again....The still, though, was meant to show that by autumn, she still hadn't fully decayed, but with that note, yeah, I see it's failed. I'll think about a good replacement for that idea.

"I'm still undecided on the honey/was change but in the current last line I think you could consider cutting dim, or use asleep instead of sleeping followed by deep or down. Just a thought."
I'll think about both of those. Yeah, the honey change kind of freaks me out, but it's also more metrically consistent.

"the main thing for me was the meter using a set amount of syllables can work but in general a good meter gives the poem a better chance of not jarring as it's being read. all just suggestions of course as the poem is always yours."
Yeah, the next edit will be a try at making the poem more metrically consistent (Instead of the current inconsistent system, I'll play around with using trochees and iambs to convey different meanings). Although I do have half a mind to just botch the current considerations on meter altogether, and maybe just concentrate on using words that make the poem feel stickier and all that.

I'll also, on the next edit, try to expand on the idea of birth-rebirth I played with in the third version, but also make another edit of the poem that's more straightforward with the original intentions, since that whole new layer of subtext might not end up showing very well. But that's for after I've gotten some sleep.

[Leah S.]

A play on a different idea:assuming this line is not part of the poem?
I can feel the heat of summer swinging Your meter is messing up my mind..had to get out the scratch paper. See below.
to every humid breath you take.
Rapping on your radiant templesThe image is clear: palms to cheeks, fingers upward, doing that nervous finger tattoo on someone's temples. Why?
are my greedy fingers, ten wine-stained snakes. why greedy? Snaky fingers are not the usual configuration of human fingers. I got an image of fingers with several extra joints. If you really want to extend that image, you could replace 'rapping' with 'writhing' in the above line.

The bitter atmosphere of fall
nips at your nose, the wilting rose.
Enthralling smells of cider, freshly-pressed,
and boiling sap still oozes from your skin.Not sure about 'boiling' but I like this whole stanza.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
refill your shriveled bosom with hot blood.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
restrains the silver blind beyond. Sorry, I don't get it. A blind is an enclosure where hunters hide. It doesn't require restraining, and is never silver.

You're wearing that shift of flowers again:
your vernal musk, your honey's golden wax.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
unsullied in our dim cellar. 'your dim cellar' ? I think it would be sexier
Okay, here's my scratch-paper scansion for the first stanza:
XX/Xx/Xx/Xx/Xx (5 feet)
xX/xX/xX/xX (4 feet)
Xx/XX/Xx/XX/x- (4 1/2 feet)
XX/Xx/Xx/XX/XX (5 feet)
I think you can get away with weird meter, if it has a consistent and repeated pattern, but this doesn't yet. The second stanza starts with iambic four foot lines and goes to 5 foot lines; the third stanza starts doing weird things again.
Over all, this poem has a LOT going for it. Decide on the underlying rhythm, whether you want it simple or complicated, or if you want to evoke a rhythm from nature in it.

First edit:
I can feel the heat of summer swinging
to every humid breath you take.
Rapping on your radiant temples
are my greedy fingers, ten wine-stained snakes.

The bitter atmosphere of fall
nips at your nose, the noble hill.
Enthralling smells of cider, freshly-pressed,
and boiling maple sap bleed from your skin.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
refill your trembling bosom with hot blood.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
blushes the silver blind beyond.

You're wearing that shift of flowers again:
your vernal musk, the wax to your honey.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
sleeping soundly in our cellar.

Original:
I can feel the heat of summer swinging
to every humid breath you take.
Rapping on your pallid temples
are my greedy fingers, ten wine-stained snakes.

The bitter atmosphere of fall
nips at your nose, the noble hill.
Enthralling smells of cider, freshly-pressed,
and boiling maple sap bleed from your skin.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
are passions we behold while in these chains.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
blushes the silver blind beyond.

You're wearing that shift of flowers again:
your vernal musk, the wax to your honey.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
unsullied in our dim cellar.

[RiverNotch]

Thanks for the feedback! Here're my responses, plus the new draft of the poem.

"assuming this line is not part of the poem?"
It isn't.
"Your meter is messing up my mind..had to get out the scratch paper. See below."
Working on it. I'll post what I've finished of the meter right now. It's still not gonna be that uniform, but it will follow a pattern.
"The image is clear: palms to cheeks, fingers upward, doing that nervous finger tattoo on someone's temples. Why?"
Touch....touch....touch....touch....I imagine touching like that's kinda sexy. But I'll mull over that a bit more later.
"why greedy? Snaky fingers are not the usual configuration of human fingers. I got an image of fingers with several extra joints. If you really want to extend that image, you could replace 'rapping' with 'writhing' in the above line."
They're greedy for the feel of the person's skin. But "writhing" sounds like a good word to use, too, since that movement could also be quite evocative.
"Not sure about 'boiling' but I like this whole stanza."
You boil sap to make syrup. Buuuuut that line's sort of weird in the current draft I'm working on: I can't make up my mind on whether I'll keep it, or I'll introduce another idea.
"Sorry, I don't get it. A blind is an enclosure where hunters hide. It doesn't require restraining, and is never silver."
A blind could also mean a something which obstructs the vision, like a snowstorm or something (which isn't exactly silver, but I imagine with the light of the sun fighting its way through the snowy course, it'd somewhat look like it). Anyway, I'll be keeping that.
"'your dim cellar' ? I think it would be sexier"
Might be.

Oh feck, yeah, radiant is three syllables, not two. Should have caught that. But I think "I can" is a trochee here, and "wine-stained" goes like "X/x", like "bloodstain".

Okay, so here's what I've worked on so far with regards to the poem's meter:

I can feel the heat of summer swinging (Xx/Xx/Xx/Xx/Xx)
with your every humid whisper. (Xx/Xx/Xx/Xx)
Writhing on your ruddy temples (Xx/Xx/Xx/Xx)
are my fingers, greedy wine-stained serpents. (Xx/Xx/Xx/Xx/Xx)

I still haven't finished autumn's new draft, but I've been working on it for two days, and nothing is coming out. Here's the planned meter, anyway:
(Xx/Xx/Xx/Xx) [Smells of freshly-drafted cider]
(Xx/Xx/Xx/Xx) [ripple from your noble dimples.]
(Xx/xX/xX/xX/xX) [....]
(xX/xX/xX/xX/xX) [....]

Blossoming flames and heady beer (Xx/xX/xX/xX)
refill your shriveled bosom with hot blood. (xX/xX/xX/xX/xX)
The fearless rhythm of our winter love (xX/xX/xX/xX/xX)
conquers the silver blind beyond. (Xx/xX/xX/xX)

Flowers are blooming on your skin again: (Xx/xX/xX/xX/xX)
your vernal musk, your honey's wax, returns. (xX/xX/xX/xX/xX)
A glen of cherry cordial lies (xX/xX/xX/xX)
dreaming sweetly in your cellar. (Xx/Xx/Xx/Xx)

[RiverNotch]

Bumping this thread -- A new version, with a bit of meter, and an emphasis on the changes with the seasons, has been edited into the first post.

[RiverNotch]

Another new version. I can't keep this piece out of my head

[cloud]

Your edits keep getting more elegant notch!
Any edit I add is purely out of my taste for fluency in wording, just semantics; please cherrypick my revisions to your liking.

In regards to the piece, I sense the attitude operates out of a place of lust which construes an organic love & beauty from nature if not integrated carefully. Perhaps a more direct approach could establish a better connection, if that makes sense. 
Pablo Neruda is a master at balancing lust with nature, and he did so without relying on possessive adjectives such as 'your'.

I can feel the summer heat
swinging with your every gesture.
your swollen nest
Writhing on,
my fingers become wine-stained serpents.

Smells of freshly drafted cider } imo this stanza isn't necessary, youth aspect needs a better execution to stick
ripple from your supple navel.
Spirits blue with autumn's bite
follow this a scent to steal connected with our youth.

Blossoming flames and heady out of/made from gold/beer 
refills your bosom with hot blood.
The rhythm of our winter love
blushes dances silver blind lines(?) beyond. 

Your old sundress on display: // the sun dresses/marinates in your frame } just something without starting with 'your'
spring's honeyed musk returning.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
dreaming sweetly in our cellar.

Here's a metered version of the poem, with an emphasis on changes associated with the seasons. Not much different from the rest, I have to note.

I can feel the heat of summer swinging
with your every humid whisper.
Writhing on your ruddy temples
are my fingers, greedy wine-stained serpents.

Smells of freshly-drafted cider
ripple from your noble dimples.
Bothering spirits blue with autumn's bite
follow this scent to steal our love away.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
refill your shriveled bosom with hot blood.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
conquers the silver blind beyond.

Flowers are blooming on your skin again:
your vernal musk, your honey's wax, returns.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
dreaming sweetly in our cellar.

Yes, the meter is meant to be inconstant, but there's a sort of pattern with how it goes. And I do feel that iambic would capture the heat and slow nature of summer better, with trochaic being stronger for the reverse, but I'd like to think that the meter is meant to capture the spirit of the seasons themselves, rather than just the spirits of the characters: summer is usually a much livelier time than winter. I'm a bit bothered by the feminine ending of the first stanza getting in the way of the spondee, which sort of breaks the sense of doing spondees at both ends, and I'm also bothered with the slowness of the final stanza. I'm also a bit insecure with how the images work, whether the whole thing is strong and vivid enough to be effective. But thanks for the coming feedback!

Old edits:

A play on a different idea:
I can feel the heat of summer swinging
to every humid breath you take.
Rapping on your radiant temples
are my greedy fingers, ten wine-stained snakes.

The bitter atmosphere of fall
nips at your nose, the wilting rose.
Enthralling smells of cider, freshly-pressed,
and boiling sap still oozes from your skin.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
refill your shriveled bosom with hot blood.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
restrains the silver blind beyond.

You're wearing that shift of flowers again:
your vernal musk, your honey's golden wax.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
unsullied in our dim cellar.

First edit:
I can feel the heat of summer swinging
to every humid breath you take.
Rapping on your radiant temples
are my greedy fingers, ten wine-stained snakes.

The bitter atmosphere of fall
nips at your nose, the noble hill.
Enthralling smells of cider, freshly-pressed,
and boiling maple sap bleed from your skin.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
refill your trembling bosom with hot blood.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
blushes the silver blind beyond.

You're wearing that shift of flowers again:
your vernal musk, the wax to your honey.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
sleeping soundly in our cellar.

Original:
I can feel the heat of summer swinging
to every humid breath you take.
Rapping on your pallid temples
are my greedy fingers, ten wine-stained snakes.

The bitter atmosphere of fall
nips at your nose, the noble hill.
Enthralling smells of cider, freshly-pressed,
and boiling maple sap bleed from your skin.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
are passions we behold while in these chains.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
blushes the silver blind beyond.

You're wearing that shift of flowers again:
your vernal musk, the wax to your honey.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
unsullied in our dim cellar.

[RiverNotch]

Thanks for the feedback, and the suggested reading.

[billy]

the major difference is how it reads; now it has a pattern that helps the reader. the third line in each stanza need to be the same though you could make an exception with the last stanza. well done on the edit.

I can feel the heat of summer
swinging with your every gesture.
Writhing on your swollen nest
are my fingers, wine-stained serpents.

Smells of freshly drafted cider
ripple from your supple navel. what is a supple navel? is it the same as a supple nostril or supple eyeball?
Spirits blue with autumn's bite
follow this scent to steal our youth.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
refill your bosom with hot blood.
The rhythm of our winter love an extra half foot, a suggestion would be to lose [our] as it's a given
blushes the silver blind beyond.

Your old sundress on display:
spring's honeyed musk returning.
A glen of cherry cordial lies again an extra half foot, though it doesn't affect the poem for me so i'd say leave it as is. [you could lose [lies] but it doesn't interfere with the meter for me.
dreaming sweetly in our cellar.

Here's a metered version of the poem, with an emphasis on changes associated with the seasons. Not much different from the rest, I have to note.

I can feel the heat of summer swinging
with your every humid whisper.
Writhing on your ruddy temples
are my fingers, greedy wine-stained serpents.

Smells of freshly-drafted cider
ripple from your noble dimples.
Bothering spirits blue with autumn's bite
follow this scent to steal our love away.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
refill your shriveled bosom with hot blood.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
conquers the silver blind beyond.

Flowers are blooming on your skin again:
your vernal musk, your honey's wax, returns.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
dreaming sweetly in our cellar.

Yes, the meter is meant to be inconstant, but there's a sort of pattern with how it goes. And I do feel that iambic would capture the heat and slow nature of summer better, with trochaic being stronger for the reverse, but I'd like to think that the meter is meant to capture the spirit of the seasons themselves, rather than just the spirits of the characters: summer is usually a much livelier time than winter. I'm a bit bothered by the feminine ending of the first stanza getting in the way of the spondee, which sort of breaks the sense of doing spondees at both ends, and I'm also bothered with the slowness of the final stanza. I'm also a bit insecure with how the images work, whether the whole thing is strong and vivid enough to be effective. But thanks for the coming feedback!

Old edits:

A play on a different idea:
I can feel the heat of summer swinging
to every humid breath you take.
Rapping on your radiant temples
are my greedy fingers, ten wine-stained snakes.

The bitter atmosphere of fall
nips at your nose, the wilting rose.
Enthralling smells of cider, freshly-pressed,
and boiling sap still oozes from your skin.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
refill your shriveled bosom with hot blood.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
restrains the silver blind beyond.

You're wearing that shift of flowers again:
your vernal musk, your honey's golden wax.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
unsullied in our dim cellar.

First edit:
I can feel the heat of summer swinging
to every humid breath you take.
Rapping on your radiant temples
are my greedy fingers, ten wine-stained snakes.

The bitter atmosphere of fall
nips at your nose, the noble hill.
Enthralling smells of cider, freshly-pressed,
and boiling maple sap bleed from your skin.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
refill your trembling bosom with hot blood.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
blushes the silver blind beyond.

You're wearing that shift of flowers again:
your vernal musk, the wax to your honey.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
sleeping soundly in our cellar.

Original:
I can feel the heat of summer swinging
to every humid breath you take.
Rapping on your pallid temples
are my greedy fingers, ten wine-stained snakes.

The bitter atmosphere of fall
nips at your nose, the noble hill.
Enthralling smells of cider, freshly-pressed,
and boiling maple sap bleed from your skin.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
are passions we behold while in these chains.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
blushes the silver blind beyond.

You're wearing that shift of flowers again:
your vernal musk, the wax to your honey.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
unsullied in our dim cellar.

[Knot]

Hi River,
the latest revision seems to me
a big improvement (though the
title's starting to look a little
flat in comparision)
'Wine stained serpents' is the
standout line for me.

Would suggest reworking S1
to have 'Summer' in L3 (to match
the seasons in S2 and S3.
Perhaps something like
I can feel the heat swinging
with your every gesture.
Summer, writhing on your swollen nest,
my fingers, wine-stained serpents.

Likewise, swap/rework L2/3
in S4 (to move 'spring' to L3)

Do you mean 'pressed' or 'pulled'
for 'drafted'?
'the scent' rather than 'this scent'.
Agree with billy about 'supple'
(make little sense to me).

Maybe
Blossom aflame and heady beer
or
Blossom's aflame and heady beer
and
refil your breast with hot [x] blood

'disply' seems a bit discordant.


Best, Knot.


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