“Nature’s Yard Work”

[ellz483]

From my perch, so high, above the painted land
I gaze upon, far below, dunes of desert sand
Where the sun shone down in juicy, golden rays
And warmed the belly of the earth for long, forgotten days
Now, wind picks up and thrashes ‘bout the tiny grains
Who, all alone, stand no chance against the drowning rains
Thunder rumbles o’er my fragile, dusted ledge
And clouds billow ‘cross majestic mountain hedge
Yet, on my perch, all is for a moment quiet
Though endlessly beneath me, nature shivers in a riot
Mother rushes, changing ‘round the old landscapes
At last, I flap my wings and make my great escape.

[oligoclonal]

I like how the scale of dives back and forth between the tiny voice of a bird and the large voice of nature. I'm not sure if I love or am confused by some of your turns of phrase, though.

[Pious Baloney]

Your poem tapped into my subconscious desire to be a bird for a day to see the world from way up high.  A few food for thought considerations below.

From my perch, so high, above the painted land
I gaze upon, far below, dunes of desert sand
Where the sun shone down in juicy, golden rays
And warmed the belly of the earth for long, forgotten days
Now, wind picks up and thrashes ‘bout the tiny grains
Who, all alone, stand no chance against the drowning rains
Thunder rumbles o’er my fragile, dusted ledge    
And clouds billow ‘cross majestic mountain hedge
Yet, on my perch, all is for a moment quiet     <--- Reading this verse aloud as presented seemed a touch off.  Perhaps consider; 'Yet on my perch, for a moment all is quiet'
Though endlessly beneath me, nature shivers in a riot    <--- 'the world shivers in a riot'.  Only suggested here in case in the next line you wanted to use mother nature.
Mother rushes, changing ‘round the old landscapes   <---  'Mother nature rushes in'.  'Mother rushes' seems incomplete...but perhaps I am interpreting your verse wrong.
At last, I flap my wings and make my great escape.

[bena]

Hi Elz, welcome to PO. I'm going to be a bit critical since you've posted in Mild, I'm sure you are ready for some critique. Your rhythm is very unique. At first I found it rather difficult because I thought you were mistakenly adding a
iamb every other line, but since you carry it throughout the first 4 lines I assumed it was intentional...then the hexameter line disappeared on me...and we went back to pentameter. Bit confusing for the reader who is trying to grasp a rhythm.



I do like your poem, although the content has been done before, you offer some fresh images at least to hold onto.
Comments now only on content:
From my perch, so high, above the painted land {painted land is a tad cliché, think you can get away with it}
I gaze upon, far below, dunes of desert sand
Where the sun shone down in juicy, golden rays
And warmed the belly of the earth for long, forgotten days
Now, wind picks up and thrashes ‘bout the tiny grains
Who, all alone, stand no chance against the drowning rains
Thunder rumbles o’er my fragile, dusted ledge {thunder rumbles is cliché}
And clouds billow ‘cross majestic mountain hedge {clouds billow, majestic mountain, same thing}
Yet, on my perch, all is for a moment quiet
Though endlessly beneath me, nature shivers in a riot {back to hex here to end}
Mother rushes, changing ‘round the old landscapes
At last, I flap my wings and make my great escape.


There is room to work with this. Try to freshen up some of those images, and pick a rhythm and stick to it. You can alternate if you wish, just don't go all wonky.
Hope to read more,
mel.

[Brownlie]

I think this is not so bad. 

From my perch, so high, above the painted land -- We don't necessarily need so high and above, even perch and above is a little redundant.
I gaze upon, far below, dunes of desert sand
Where the sun shone down in juicy, golden rays
And warmed the belly of the earth for long, forgotten days -- Warmed the belly of the earth has a nice sonorous ring to it.  
Now, wind picks up and thrashes ‘bout the tiny grains -- Now, I'm sure this thrashing wind that carries grains could be specified and explained in a new way.
Who, all alone, stand no chance against the drowning rains
Thunder rumbles o’er my fragile, dusted ledge -- I wouldn't use o'er unless you are intentionally trying to be quaint.
And clouds billow ‘cross majestic mountain hedge -- Again 'cross, I'm not sure...
Yet, on my perch, all is for a moment quiet
Though endlessly beneath me, nature shivers in a riot -- Think of the rhyming on consecutive lines here Quiet/Riot. Isn't that the name of a punk band? Though punk music can be cool, it seems to jangly (like a Christmas bauble or something).
Mother rushes, changing ‘round the old landscapes
At last, I flap my wings and make my great escape. --- Your rhyme word, escape, hinders the poem more than it helps it. You demonstrated an act then made it weaker by telling exactly what was going on in an abstraction. (Note, I'm not necessarily providing my own set of hack-axioms, but I'm stating my opinion for this particular case.)

I think this particular piece can be tightened up. Perhaps someone editing it could try to eliminate redundancy first. All of that being said, I might not be the best person to be taking advice from. This is not so bad though.

[paranoid marvin]

From my perch, so high, above the painted land
I gaze upon, far below, dunes of desert sand
Where the sun shone down in juicy, golden rays
And warmed the belly of the earth for long, forgotten days
Now, wind picks up and thrashes ‘bout the tiny grains
Who, all alone, stand no chance against the drowning rains
Thunder rumbles o’er my fragile, dusted ledge
And clouds billow ‘cross majestic mountain hedge
Yet, on my perch, all is for a moment quiet
Though endlessly beneath me, nature shivers in a riot
Mother rushes, changing ‘round the old landscapes
At last, I flap my wings and make my great escape.

A bit of an odd one. One minute I think it's a bird, the next I think it's something else entirely (I'm not sure what)

I do think there are a few too many commas. If you want to break up the lines then split them , so


From my perch, so high, above the painted land

becomes

From my perch
so high
above the painted land

but in all honesty

From my perch so high above the painted land

works fine

[azure]

From my perch, so high, above the painted land
I gaze upon, far below, dunes of desert sand
Where the sun shone down in juicy, golden rays
And warmed the belly of the earth for long, forgotten days
Now, wind picks up and thrashes ‘bout the tiny grains
Who, all alone, stand no chance against the drowning rains
Thunder rumbles o’er my fragile, dusted ledge
And clouds billow ‘cross majestic mountain hedge
Yet, on my perch, all is for a moment quiet
Though endlessly beneath me, nature shivers in a riot
Mother rushes, changing ‘round the old landscapes
At last, I flap my wings and make my great escape.

The rhythm of this piece jumped all over the place, and some of the tricks you used to add a level of sophistication were quite useless and reminded me of the crap I'd do in my own poetry to dazzle an audience. I had issues with the meter as well, it seemed to make sense for a couple of lines, then became erratic and tiring to read. However, some of the images here were interesting and original. I would suggest adhering to a more definitive meter and expanding upon the beginnings of decent imagery already present. Sorry for the vague critique, I desperately need sleep... You could go somewhere with this, just apply yourself.

Azure