Blue Lady 1

[velvet_morph]

Edit 1 -- Blue Lady 1

Morning sunlight peeps through the drapes.
Grass and trees sparkle with dew.
The rustic bach needs some paint.
But today I won’t rush, tomorrow I promise
I’ll give her the brush.

Roar of blue lady is flung through the air.
I walk down to see her, with feet bare.
A thunderous crack, angelic hush
Her brume on my lips, her scent in my nose
happily feeling her grain between toes.

I think it sounds a lot better than the original.

Hi folks

I'm new to this site and to poetry. I started writing a poem with themes that are dear to my heart - the ocean and fishing. In New Zealand, I used to go fishing over some hills and it was quite the walk to get to my secret spot.

I ended up writing an entire story, so broke it up into 3 poems. I will post the first one today just to be fair to others, and stick to the one-a-day policy.

As a beginner, I will appreciate any constructive feedback that comes my way. I really hope it is good enough to be in this forum.

Oh, yes. Bach = little old beach house in NZ. Dairy = convenience/corner store. 'Joa is feijoa = plentiful, yummy green fruit.

Blue Lady 1

A golden dawn peeps through a drape
While green verdure shimmers dew
The rustic bach needs some paint
But today’s without rush
On morrow I promise
I’ll give her the brush

For roar of blue lady is flung through the air
I walk down to see her, that’s twice feet bare
A thunderous crack
Angelic hush
Her brume on my lips
Her scent in my nose
Happily feeling her grain ‘tween toes

The thought of white paint is no real wish
I think I’d prefer a slithering dish
Back to the bach with sand on my feet
Not even stopping for something to eat

Sack and hooks, rod and bait
As I sneakily sneak, out of the gate
Down past the dairy I quickly walk
But Mrs. Reed spots me, and stops me to talk

Her grey banter’s the same, and the same as before
Showing me pictures of grandson Joe
I want to say sorry I have to go
But can only stand there reflecting her smile
At least time’s on my side, it’s only a while

The path is familiar, there’s plenty to see
Breakfast’s a ‘joa plucked high from a tree
A glimpse of blue lady as I cross over the bridge
That’s last time I see her ‘til top of the ridge
Her wet swiftly flows between gnarly mangroves.
Carrying seeds to the sea with white foam
She looks kind of angry, should I go home?

But her pull is much stronger than my will to turn back
As I climb over fence and head up the track
The smell of green needles and red mud beneath me
A hole in the scrub; the home of a Kiwi

I arrive at the square on top of the hill
Arched granite rows where brown ghosts mill
I give my respect
Thanks, and wide berth
To those who lay sleeping deep in the earth

Down slippery slope and careful I go
To wandering water where taro grow
Over the drain where the black eels play
Past the old barn and a stack of wet hay

Now within sight
The top of the ridge
A crave, an itch, a pinch.

[Leanne]

Hiya Morph, and welcome.  There are some lovely images in your poem and overall there's a feeling of quiet respect and oneness with the environment.  What's holding the poem back the most is your archaic use of grammar -- this is a fairly common problem among beginner poets because there's often a strange idea that pulling out all those annoying little parts of speech like prepositions and conjunctions is what to do in poetry.  Also, you're forcing a lot of your rhymes when in actual fact, the poem would probably benefit more from rhyming less.  

Let's look at your first stanza:

A golden dawn peeps through a drape -- if it's just peeping through ONE drape, there must be a hole in it.  Otherwise, you could have "Golden dawn peeps through the drapes", although "golden dawn" is quite a cliche.
While green verdure shimmers dew -- there is no other colour of verdure but green, that's what it means.  It can't "shimmer dew" -- it can shimmer WITH dew though
The rustic bach needs some paint 
But today’s without rush -- this is twisted grammar and would work MUCH better as "But today I won't rush"
On morrow I promise -- it would be "on the morrow" if anyone actually said that, but they don't, so there's nothing wrong with just saying "tomorrow"
I’ll give her the brush

You are actually obscuring your most attractive ideas behind faux-poetic language.  My advice is to write this as you would speak it; poetry is best served by allowing the imagery to speak for itself rather than detracting from it with awkward syntax.  It is do-able and worth doing for this poem.

[velvet_morph]

Hi Leanne

Thanks so much for your feedback. I have given the poem a bit of a tweaking. My poor poems (all 3 of them) do suffer from having every line having to rhyme, but I am trying to remedy this somewhat.

Blue Lady 1

Morning sunlight peeps through the drapes.
Grass and trees sparkle with dew.
The rustic bach needs some paint.
But today I won’t rush, tomorrow I promise
I’ll give her the brush.

Roar of blue lady is flung through the air.
I walk down to see her, with feet bare.
A thunderous crack, angelic hush
Her brume on my lips, her scent in my nose
happily feeling her grain between toes.

I think it sounds a lot better than the original.

[billy]

all poetry and poets are good enough to be here,  we care for anyone who wants to improve. welcome to the site.
i did read leanne's post and can't help but agree with her take. the rhyme is too expected, and not consistent. the poem shows you've put some thought into it and it has a start middle and end...not all poems do. for someone new to poetry it's excellnt...you will drastically improve in a fairly short space of time if you stick with the site and use some of the feedback you get

Hi folks

I'm new to this site and to poetry. I started writing a poem with themes that are dear to my heart - the ocean and fishing. In New Zealand, I used to go fishing over some hills and it was quite the walk to get to my secret spot.

I ended up writing an entire story, so broke it up into 3 poems. I will post the first one today just to be fair to others, and stick to the one-a-day policy.

As a beginner, I will appreciate any constructive feedback that comes my way. I really hope it is good enough to be in this forum.

Oh, yes. Bach = little old beach house in NZ. Dairy = convenience/corner store. 'Joa is feijoa = plentiful, yummy green fruit.

Blue Lady 1

A golden dawn peeps through a drape
While green verdure shimmers dew
The rustic bach needs some paint
But today’s without rush
On morrow I promise
I’ll give her the brush as was pointed out by another. drapes, verdure, [shimmers with dew] though shimmers feels a bit awkward for dew. tomorrow

For roar of blue lady is flung through the air
I walk down to see her, that’s twice feet bare
A thunderous crack
Angelic hush don't be to arty with words, angelic doesn't go well with the thunder, a suggestion is along the lines of [sinister]
Her brume on my lips
Her scent in my nose
Happily feeling her grain ‘tween toes

The thought of white paint is no real wish
I think I’d prefer a slithering dish
Back to the bach with sand on my feet
Not even stopping for something to eat

Sack and hooks, rod and bait
As I sneakily sneak, out of the gate
Down past the dairy I quickly walk
But Mrs. Reed spots me, and stops me to talk

Her grey banter’s the same, and the same as before watch out for repetition, only use it if it adds something to the poem.
Showing me pictures of grandson Joe
I want to say sorry I have to go
But can only stand there reflecting her smile
At least time’s on my side, it’s only a while

The path is familiar, there’s plenty to see
Breakfast’s a ‘joa plucked high from a tree
A glimpse of blue lady as I cross over the bridge
That’s last time I see her ‘til top of the ridge
Her wet swiftly flows between gnarly mangroves.
Carrying seeds to the sea with white foam
She looks kind of angry, should I go home?

But her pull is much stronger than my will to turn back
As I climb over fence and head up the track
The smell of green needles and red mud beneath me
A hole in the scrub; the home of a Kiwi

I arrive at the square on top of the hill
Arched granite rows where brown ghosts mill
I give my respect
Thanks, and wide berth
To those who lay sleeping deep in the earth

Down slippery slope and careful I go
To wandering water where taro grow
Over the drain where the black eels play
Past the old barn and a stack of wet hay

Now within sight
The top of the ridge
A crave, an itch, a pinch.

[Leanne]

Hi Morph, I've just pasted your edit above the original post -- we find it works better to keep the edits in the one place so that people can easily find them and compare. Thanks for being such a good sport, you'll do well.

[billy]

have you shortened the poem to two verse or just edited two verse? yes, it is much better but can be improved on as can all of the poem. well done for taking feedback to heart and working on an edit. the first verse personally i think you went a little to far the other way, i think [verdure was a good word use if done properly. an example;

the verdure of grass and tree sparkle with dew

sort out the end rhymes. don't be too obvious with them, also make them constant or perhaps steer clear of them for a while .

Edit 1 -- Blue Lady 1

Morning sunlight peeps through the drapes.
Grass and trees sparkle with dew.
The rustic bach needs some paint. no need for [some]
But today I won’t rush, tomorrow I promise
I’ll give her the brush. this might be too ambiguous for some though i like the femininity you imply to the house

Roar of blue lady is flung through the air.
I walk down to see her, with feet bare.
A thunderous crack, angelic hush
Her brume on my lips, her scent in my nose
happily feeling her grain between toes.

I think it sounds a lot better than the original.

Hi folks

I'm new to this site and to poetry. I started writing a poem with themes that are dear to my heart - the ocean and fishing. In New Zealand, I used to go fishing over some hills and it was quite the walk to get to my secret spot.

I ended up writing an entire story, so broke it up into 3 poems. I will post the first one today just to be fair to others, and stick to the one-a-day policy.

As a beginner, I will appreciate any constructive feedback that comes my way. I really hope it is good enough to be in this forum.

Oh, yes. Bach = little old beach house in NZ. Dairy = convenience/corner store. 'Joa is feijoa = plentiful, yummy green fruit.

Blue Lady 1

A golden dawn peeps through a drape
While green verdure shimmers dew
The rustic bach needs some paint
But today’s without rush
On morrow I promise
I’ll give her the brush

For roar of blue lady is flung through the air
I walk down to see her, that’s twice feet bare
A thunderous crack
Angelic hush
Her brume on my lips
Her scent in my nose
Happily feeling her grain ‘tween toes

The thought of white paint is no real wish
I think I’d prefer a slithering dish
Back to the bach with sand on my feet
Not even stopping for something to eat

Sack and hooks, rod and bait
As I sneakily sneak, out of the gate
Down past the dairy I quickly walk
But Mrs. Reed spots me, and stops me to talk

Her grey banter’s the same, and the same as before
Showing me pictures of grandson Joe
I want to say sorry I have to go
But can only stand there reflecting her smile
At least time’s on my side, it’s only a while

The path is familiar, there’s plenty to see
Breakfast’s a ‘joa plucked high from a tree
A glimpse of blue lady as I cross over the bridge
That’s last time I see her ‘til top of the ridge
Her wet swiftly flows between gnarly mangroves.
Carrying seeds to the sea with white foam
She looks kind of angry, should I go home?

But her pull is much stronger than my will to turn back
As I climb over fence and head up the track
The smell of green needles and red mud beneath me
A hole in the scrub; the home of a Kiwi

I arrive at the square on top of the hill
Arched granite rows where brown ghosts mill
I give my respect
Thanks, and wide berth
To those who lay sleeping deep in the earth

Down slippery slope and careful I go
To wandering water where taro grow
Over the drain where the black eels play
Past the old barn and a stack of wet hay

Now within sight
The top of the ridge
A crave, an itch, a pinch.