Tea and Biscuits

[Keith]

2nd Edit
Water coloured garden, vibrant and balanced,
flower heads dance with unseen touches
the fanfare of squeals, gone from street,
bumbling Lancaster's head home,
tiny wings trace figure eights.

Tin tray and pots brew on our seat
cups wait aside crumbling rewards,
ripe for dunking,
tired bodies claim the moment,
eye's stretch into cooling shade.

Stella snaps at a hover fly,
she's spread, under the Maple,
her tongues rhythm drinks,
best china clinks, fingers rise,
the dryness of the day runs golden amber.

We slide, embraced,
sleep finds my lolling head,
and thoughts nod unfinished.
Landing tiptoed, beaks tap for their supper
a half-hearted bark breaks our trance,
just in time, for another biscuit.


1st Edit
The scent of cut grass drifts on the last of the evening’s heat,
house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
the fanfare of playful din has gone from street,
bumbling Lancaster's are on their last mission ,
midges take flight tracing unseen lissajous figures.

The garden, at its best carries colour, vibrant and balanced,
sunk on our kissing chair, noses burnt from the days offering,
tea cups stand proud above a plate of biscuits, ripe for the dunking,
tired bodies capture rested moments quiet and calm,
the sun’s angle allows eye's to stretch into cooling shade.

Stella makes us laugh, snapping at a hover fly,
too hot to move from her cool spot under the Maple,
her panting adds urgency to a parched mouth,
best china clinks, little fingers rise to the occasion,
the dryness of the day runs golden amber.

Contentment closes our eyes and slides us back in our seats,
we bathe in brief sunlight that falls beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed birds listen for their supper with cocked heads,
a token bark breaks our trance, just in time, for another biscuit.



Original
Our garden drifts over to meet us on the last of the evening’s heat,
the house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
bees are on their final run loaded with pollen,
bumbling Lancaster bombers on their last mission ,
midges take flight tracing unseen lissajous figures.

The garden is at her best she carries colour, vibrant and balanced,
we sit on our kissing chair, noses burnt from the days offering,
two cups of tea orbit a plate of biscuits, ripe for the dunking,
tired bodies capture rested moments quiet and calm,
the sun’s angle allows eyes to open into cooling shade.

The dog makes us laugh as she snaps at a hover fly,
too hot to move from the cool corner of her step,
the fanfare of playful din has gone from street,
best china clinks as our goblets rise to the occasion,
and the dryness of the day runs golden amber.

Contentment closes our eyes and slides us back in our seats,
we bathe in sunlight that blankets beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed birds listen for their supper with cocked heads,
her bark breaks our trance, just in time, for another biscuit.

[Smiffy]

As a new member of the forum I will tread carefully here, there is much I like in this yet I think it could be improved but then again that would only be to suit myself if that makes sense, how much do you change from others suggestions before a poem ceases to be your own work, always a tough one for me.....

Our garden drifts over to meet us on the last of the evening’s heat,
the house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
bees are on their final run loaded with pollen, [b]this and the next line more or less say the same thing, I like the bumbling Lancasters bit maybe try to put the two into one line " lancasters loaded with pollen " something along those lines and add in another line to keep the flow
bumbling Lancaster bombers on their last mission ,
midges take flight tracing unseen lissajous figures. I had to look up lissajous, fits nicely but I lost the flow wondering what it meant

The garden is at her best she carries colour, vibrant and balanced, maybe a comma after colour?
we sit on our kissing chair, noses burnt from the days offering,
two cups of tea orbit a plate of biscuits, ripe for the dunking, not keen on the tea orbiting the biscuits, dosen't make sense to me no matter how I visualise it
tired bodies capture rested moments quiet and calm,
the sun’s angle allows eyes to open into cooling shade.

The dog makes us laugh as she snaps at a hover fly,I'd prefer we laugh at (name of dog) as she snaps at a hover fly, makes it more personal I think
too hot to move from the cool corner of her step,
the fanfare of playful din has gone from street,
best china clinks as our goblets rise to the occasion,
and the dryness of the day runs golden amber. great line

Contentment closes our eyes and slides us back in our seats,
we bathe in sunlight that blankets beneath the trees, can't quite get the blankets bit
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished, like that ,thoughts nod unfinished, great line
landing tiptoed birds listen for their supper with cocked heads,
her bark breaks our trance, just in time, for another biscuit. again dogs name maybe?

enjoyed the read and hope this counts as mild critique, if not I apologise[/b]

[Keith]

As a new member of the forum I will tread carefully here, there is much I like in this yet I think it could be improved but then again that would only be to suit myself if that makes sense, how much do you change from others suggestions before a poem ceases to be your own work, always a tough one for me.....

Our garden drifts over to meet us on the last of the evening’s heat,
the house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
bees are on their final run loaded with pollen, [b]this and the next line more or less say the same thing, I like the bumbling Lancasters bit maybe try to put the two into one line " lancasters loaded with pollen " something along those lines and add in another line to keep the flow
bumbling Lancaster bombers on their last mission ,
midges take flight tracing unseen lissajous figures. I had to look up lissajous, fits nicely but I lost the flow wondering what it meant

The garden is at her best she carries colour, vibrant and balanced, maybe a comma after colour?
we sit on our kissing chair, noses burnt from the days offering,
two cups of tea orbit a plate of biscuits, ripe for the dunking, not keen on the tea orbiting the biscuits, dosen't make sense to me no matter how I visualise it
tired bodies capture rested moments quiet and calm,
the sun’s angle allows eyes to open into cooling shade.

The dog makes us laugh as she snaps at a hover fly,I'd prefer we laugh at (name of dog) as she snaps at a hover fly, makes it more personal I think
too hot to move from the cool corner of her step,
the fanfare of playful din has gone from street,
best china clinks as our goblets rise to the occasion,
and the dryness of the day runs golden amber. great line

Contentment closes our eyes and slides us back in our seats,
we bathe in sunlight that blankets beneath the trees, can't quite get the blankets bit
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished, like that ,thoughts nod unfinished, great line
landing tiptoed birds listen for their supper with cocked heads,
her bark breaks our trance, just in time, for another biscuit. again dogs name maybe?

enjoyed the read and hope this counts as mild critique, if not I apologise[/b]

Many thanks for your comments Smiffy, I will have a look and use them in the edit. much appreciated TOMH

[Keith]

Thanks for the comments I have used them in the edit. TOMH

[billy]

the edit feels a lot easier/nicer to read. so well done there. there seems to be a lot of tell and it make the narrative verge on prose. the lancaster line helps you out a little but i think a bit more imagery would help make it more idyllic

1st Edit
The scent of cut grass drifts on the last of the evening’s heat,
house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
the fanfare of playful din has gone from street,
bumbling Lancaster's are on their last mission ,
midges take flight tracing unseen lissajous figures.

The garden, at its best carries colour, vibrant and balanced,this feels heavy, as if you squeezed too much into it
sunk on our kissing chair, noses burnt from the days offering,
tea cups stand proud above a plate of biscuits, ripe for the dunking,
tired bodies capture rested moments quiet and calm,
the sun’s angle allows eye's to stretch into cooling shade.

Stella makes us laugh, snapping at a hover fly, who is stella, i thought it was lager at first
too hot to move from her cool spot under the Maple, so it's a dog?
her panting adds urgency to a parched mouth,
best china clinks, little fingers rise to the occasion,
the dryness of the day runs golden amber.

Contentment closes our eyes and slides us back in our seats,
we bathe in brief sunlight that falls beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed birds listen for their supper with cocked heads,
a token bark breaks our trance, just in time, for another biscuit.

[seriouslyme]

I really enjoyed this poem. It is rich in visualization. Some words, I have to agree with Timeonmyhands, were awkward only because the meaning is not evident. I did however, find the greatest reverie in reading this phrase:

"Contentment closes our eyes and slides us back in our seats,
we bathe in brief sunlight that falls beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed birds listen for their supper with cocked heads,
a token bark breaks our trance, just in time, for another biscuit. "
[quote='TimeOnMyHands' pid='115440' dateline='1360354778']

Nicely done,
Heather

[Keith]

the edit feels a lot easier/nicer to read. so well done there. there seems to be a lot of tell and it make the narrative verge on prose. the lancaster line helps you out a little but i think a bit more imagery would help make it more idyllic

1st Edit
The scent of cut grass drifts on the last of the evening’s heat,
house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
the fanfare of playful din has gone from street,
bumbling Lancaster's are on their last mission ,
midges take flight tracing unseen lissajous figures.

The garden, at its best carries colour, vibrant and balanced,this feels heavy, as if you squeezed too much into it
sunk on our kissing chair, noses burnt from the days offering,
tea cups stand proud above a plate of biscuits, ripe for the dunking,
tired bodies capture rested moments quiet and calm,
the sun’s angle allows eye's to stretch into cooling shade.

Stella makes us laugh, snapping at a hover fly, who is stella, i thought it was lager at first
too hot to move from her cool spot under the Maple, so it's a dog?
her panting adds urgency to a parched mouth,
best china clinks, little fingers rise to the occasion,
the dryness of the day runs golden amber.

Contentment closes our eyes and slides us back in our seats,
we bathe in brief sunlight that falls beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed birds listen for their supper with cocked heads,
a token bark breaks our trance, just in time, for another biscuit.

Thanks Billy had another go

[billy]

a good edit, just the one nit and the one falter, other than that it's solid.

2nd Edit
The scent of cut grass drifts on the last of the evening’s heat,
house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
the fanfare of squeals has gone from street,
bumbling Lancaster's are on their last mission,
midges take flight tracing unseen figure eights.

The garden, water colour, vibrant and balanced, would the 'water colour garden' work better?
sunk on stained frames, burnt from the days offering,
tinkling cups chatter aside crumbling rewards, ripe for dunking,
tired bodies claim rested moments quiet and calm,
eye's stretch into cooling shade.

Stella snaps at a hover fly,
too hot to move, spread under the Maple,
her tongues rhythm adds urgency to a parched mouth,
best china clinks, fingers rise to the occasion,
the dryness of the day runs golden amber.

Penny's on our eyes we slide, embraced by our place, should it be pennies? this line feels a little awkward.
we bathe in pale sunlight that fans beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed yellow beaks tap for their supper
and listen for the waiter with cocked heads,
a half-hearted bark breaks our trance,
just in time, for another biscuit.


1st Edit
The scent of cut grass drifts on the last of the evening’s heat,
house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
the fanfare of playful din has gone from street,
bumbling Lancaster's are on their last mission ,
midges take flight tracing unseen lissajous figures.

The garden, at its best carries colour, vibrant and balanced,
sunk on our kissing chair, noses burnt from the days offering,
tea cups stand proud above a plate of biscuits, ripe for the dunking,
tired bodies capture rested moments quiet and calm,
the sun’s angle allows eye's to stretch into cooling shade.

Stella makes us laugh, snapping at a hover fly,
too hot to move from her cool spot under the Maple,
her panting adds urgency to a parched mouth,
best china clinks, little fingers rise to the occasion,
the dryness of the day runs golden amber.

Contentment closes our eyes and slides us back in our seats,
we bathe in brief sunlight that falls beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed birds listen for their supper with cocked heads,
a token bark breaks our trance, just in time, for another biscuit.



Original
Our garden drifts over to meet us on the last of the evening’s heat,
the house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
bees are on their final run loaded with pollen,
bumbling Lancaster bombers on their last mission ,
midges take flight tracing unseen lissajous figures.

The garden is at her best she carries colour, vibrant and balanced,
we sit on our kissing chair, noses burnt from the days offering,
two cups of tea orbit a plate of biscuits, ripe for the dunking,
tired bodies capture rested moments quiet and calm,
the sun’s angle allows eyes to open into cooling shade.

The dog makes us laugh as she snaps at a hover fly,
too hot to move from the cool corner of her step,
the fanfare of playful din has gone from street,
best china clinks as our goblets rise to the occasion,
and the dryness of the day runs golden amber.

Contentment closes our eyes and slides us back in our seats,
we bathe in sunlight that blankets beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed birds listen for their supper with cocked heads,
her bark breaks our trance, just in time, for another biscuit.

[Keith]

a good edit, just the one nit and the one falter, other than that it's solid.

2nd Edit
The scent of cut grass drifts on the last of the evening’s heat,
house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
the fanfare of squeals has gone from street,
bumbling Lancaster's are on their last mission,
midges take flight tracing unseen figure eights.

The garden, water colour, vibrant and balanced, would the 'water colour garden' work better?
sunk on stained frames, burnt from the days offering,
tinkling cups chatter aside crumbling rewards, ripe for dunking,
tired bodies claim rested moments quiet and calm,
eye's stretch into cooling shade.

Stella snaps at a hover fly,
too hot to move, spread under the Maple,
her tongues rhythm adds urgency to a parched mouth,
best china clinks, fingers rise to the occasion,
the dryness of the day runs golden amber.

Penny's on our eyes we slide, embraced by our place, should it be pennies? this line feels a little awkward.
we bathe in pale sunlight that fans beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed yellow beaks tap for their supper
and listen for the waiter with cocked heads,
a half-hearted bark breaks our trance,
just in time, for another biscuit.


1st Edit
The scent of cut grass drifts on the last of the evening’s heat,
house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
the fanfare of playful din has gone from street,
bumbling Lancaster's are on their last mission ,
midges take flight tracing unseen lissajous figures.

The garden, at its best carries colour, vibrant and balanced,
sunk on our kissing chair, noses burnt from the days offering,
tea cups stand proud above a plate of biscuits, ripe for the dunking,
tired bodies capture rested moments quiet and calm,
the sun’s angle allows eye's to stretch into cooling shade.

Stella makes us laugh, snapping at a hover fly,
too hot to move from her cool spot under the Maple,
her panting adds urgency to a parched mouth,
best china clinks, little fingers rise to the occasion,
the dryness of the day runs golden amber.

Contentment closes our eyes and slides us back in our seats,
we bathe in brief sunlight that falls beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed birds listen for their supper with cocked heads,
a token bark breaks our trance, just in time, for another biscuit.



Original
Our garden drifts over to meet us on the last of the evening’s heat,
the house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
bees are on their final run loaded with pollen,
bumbling Lancaster bombers on their last mission ,
midges take flight tracing unseen lissajous figures.

The garden is at her best she carries colour, vibrant and balanced,
we sit on our kissing chair, noses burnt from the days offering,
two cups of tea orbit a plate of biscuits, ripe for the dunking,
tired bodies capture rested moments quiet and calm,
the sun’s angle allows eyes to open into cooling shade.

The dog makes us laugh as she snaps at a hover fly,
too hot to move from the cool corner of her step,
the fanfare of playful din has gone from street,
best china clinks as our goblets rise to the occasion,
and the dryness of the day runs golden amber.

Contentment closes our eyes and slides us back in our seats,
we bathe in sunlight that blankets beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed birds listen for their supper with cocked heads,
her bark breaks our trance, just in time, for another biscuit.

Thanks Billy, its been on a diet so tried to remove the prose feel.

[billy]

i think you went too far prose is more about style than length

here's a suggestion as to how you could go...just a directional line

The scent of cut grass drifts on the last of the evening’s heat,
The scent of cut grass drifts on the heat of an afternoon's farewell,