The place for writers:
Upload your writing in minutes, receive peer feedback from other writers, poets, authors, then get your work published out there in the real world. Learn how other writers are doing it. |
|
 |
 |
 |
| |
a garden
green bulbs, fingers morphing into hands:
this is a maple marking a muddy border
where a hill went under & was cut,
patted up high into a house of gleams'
the branches themselves are summer's blink,
a leaning thicket of arches & building struts,
a miniature of an unfinished sky:
the buds cluster
at tips & gaps
& bristle wetly
like budding stars,
like a nest of rain
in a resilient wind.
Want to comment on this Poetry?
Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...
|
 |
|
[Back to top]
|
|
|
|
The first stanza reminds me of the way the rain washes away the dirt, exposing the roots of a tree. The second, I like all of it except the second line. The "unfinished sky" has me baffled.
I like the style inwhich you describe things. Very unique. |
 |
Comment by: jkaber - 2007-05-15 16:20
|
|
I love the whole second stanza - would not suggest a change at all. But I don't like the first stanza at all. I take it this is a tree that got buried. Is this important for me to know? Can the poem survive without it? If you need it, I would at least cut the following:
green bulbs, fingers morphing into hands:
this is
and see how it sounds to you without that part. My favorite line is this:
a leaning thicket of arches & building struts, |
| 1 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
| | Advertising - Terms & Conditions - Short Story Submissions - Contact - Writing Competitions - Writing Links - Book Promotion - Sky-Tribe.com - alanemmins.com |
|
|
|
|
| |
Member short stories, poems, comments and other contributions are owned by the poster.
Copyright 2003 - 2007 Edit Red I/S | | |
