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For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!
2/2/2019 2:04:36 PM

Aliyah Rhodes
Posts: 1
This is not my first poem ever written, but it is one that I think has a lot of potential. I would like advice, criticisms and any help possible. This poem is titled "Seasons".





At First Dawn,
The curtains part.
The sun gently peaks over a distant horizon as its rays lightly stretch over the sky.
What was once the darkest blue speckled with small jewels is now an abstract mural of roses, daffodils, and tulips coalescing to create the stage for which the show will begin.
Graceful crystalline ballerinas descend from the woolen balcony.
They spin and whirl against the wind until they finally land on the soft glistening stage below.
As each of their feet reach their destination, they all join into euphoric harmony.
Though the landscape appears barren with few colors below.
The potential beneath is the greatest reward.
The curtains close.
Day begins.

Daytime has arrived.
There is a frame.
It is Golden, with intricate vines, elegantly dancing across the edges.
The backdrop is an awe inspiring cerulean with a welcoming sun in mid rise.
The snow has mostly melted away, baptising the world for its grand resurrection.
The trees have now begun to sprout into a jade, emerald hue.
Gentle buds, adorning a spectrum beyond belief, delicately take their place among the arbor bodies that line the back of the painting.
Small fauna are seen from the top of the canvas to its base.
Each one begins their hour discovering their own niches with calm yet unsure steps.
Their paws and feet are gently being caressed by tranquil chartreuse pastures.
Above, new chicks dance proudly in their airborne discovery.
A new world most wish to explore.
Large ashen clouds linger in the back, providing water for the renew domain.
The painting is complete.
The sun rises higher

The sun is in the center of the sky.
The cameras begin to to roll.
The director calls action and everyone begins to fall into place.
Well orchestrated waves crashes forcefully again the bright tan, bringing a little back with them every time.
Small hermits skip across the cool sand, scavenging for food with the little time they have between waves.
A young child screams in delight at seeing the animals prance around her.

The sun begins to set.
A book lies on an empty desk.
It's autumn auburn enters from the cover.
Young animals rest along the gently worn pages.
A bookmark notes the memories gained as each day marks a new age.
Mother nature's eyes tire as the sky transforms into the same peachy-rose hues as the trees that caress it.
They are the pens for which open and close the story.
The book shuts to a finality.
The sun has set.

The night has settled in.
The curtains have shut again.
And the seasons shall cycle for an eternity.
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2/2/2019 2:34:42 PM

Eve Roper
Posts: 1
great imagery , nicely done, and enjoyed reading, Spooky Bootato wrote:
This is not my first poem ever written, but it is one that I think has a lot of potential. I would like advice, criticisms and any help possible. This poem is titled "Seasons".





At First Dawn,
The curtains part.
The sun gently peaks over a distant horizon as its rays lightly stretch over the sky.
What was once the darkest blue speckled with small jewels is now an abstract mural of roses, daffodils, and tulips coalescing to create the stage for which the show will begin.
Graceful crystalline ballerinas descend from the woolen balcony.
They spin and whirl against the wind until they finally land on the soft glistening stage below.
As each of their feet reach their destination, they all join into euphoric harmony.
Though the landscape appears barren with few colors below.
The potential beneath is the greatest reward.
The curtains close.
Day begins.

Daytime has arrived.
There is a frame.
It is Golden, with intricate vines, elegantly dancing across the edges.
The backdrop is an awe inspiring cerulean with a welcoming sun in mid rise.
The snow has mostly melted away, baptising the world for its grand resurrection.
The trees have now begun to sprout into a jade, emerald hue.
Gentle buds, adorning a spectrum beyond belief, delicately take their place among the arbor bodies that line the back of the painting.
Small fauna are seen from the top of the canvas to its base.
Each one begins their hour discovering their own niches with calm yet unsure steps.
Their paws and feet are gently being caressed by tranquil chartreuse pastures.
Above, new chicks dance proudly in their airborne discovery.
A new world most wish to explore.
Large ashen clouds linger in the back, providing water for the renew domain.
The painting is complete.
The sun rises higher

The sun is in the center of the sky.
The cameras begin to to roll.
The director calls action and everyone begins to fall into place.
Well orchestrated waves crashes forcefully again the bright tan, bringing a little back with them every time.
Small hermits skip across the cool sand, scavenging for food with the little time they have between waves.
A young child screams in delight at seeing the animals prance around her.

The sun begins to set.
A book lies on an empty desk.
It's autumn auburn enters from the cover.
Young animals rest along the gently worn pages.
A bookmark notes the memories gained as each day marks a new age.
Mother nature's eyes tire as the sky transforms into the same peachy-rose hues as the trees that caress it.
They are the pens for which open and close the story.
The book shuts to a finality.
The sun has set.

The night has settled in.
The curtains have shut again.
And the seasons shall cycle for an eternity.
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2/8/2019 11:47:37 PM

Jack Webster
Posts: 118
I like the aspiration to cover a vast expanse of time through the extended metaphor of the passage of the day. I like the idea of the poem fading out into the idea of eternity.





I found the image of the book on the desk confusing and disorienting. I strongly feel it would be better to keep the image grounded in nature, especially since animals can't really gather at the edges of its pages.




If you wish to invoke the book theme, I would make it a larger than life book through the use of simile: the sun sets, shadows stretch out like the pages of a closing book, as animals gather at their edges. This way you can infuse the feeling of the closing book without changing the image.





If you are worried about losing the bookmarks, gravestones will serve to mark the memories: The sun sets. Shadows stretch like the pages of a closing journal. Gravestones mark so many memories made. Animals gather at the edges of each page.





Something I would focus on is reviewing the first and last word of each line to see if it could be made stronger, or simply seeing if multiple lines could be said more simply. for instance the first 10 lines could be reworded in 5 as:




Starry curtains part.

First Dawn peaks over the mural of

roses, daffodils, and tulips.

Rays of light fill the sky

and open the earthly stage.




I'm not sure if this is in keeping with your voice, but I think expressing things with concise language keeps the images clearer and more accessible to the reader. There is nothing wrong with ornate descriptions, but be sure they are ornate rather than simply lacking efficiency.





I would review your use of adjectives. If you can, attempt to find images and and verbs, or groups of images and verbs that natural evoke these feelings you wish, and save your adjectives for functional roles, rather than doing the work of nouns and adjectives to create the mood. For example "The trees have now begun to sprout into a jade, emerald hue." Just choose one color. You can simply say: the trees sprout jade. Magical, no? If you're attached to emerald too, save it for something else: the earth sweats emerald through the snow. Lovely, no?




Also using graceful to describe ballerinas is redundant. Crystalline is the much more important adjective because it is unexpected and is not restating a natural association with ballerinas. If you're attached to graceful, make it an adverb for descend as it is giving us information we might not naturally associate with descend:


crystalline ballerinas descend

gracefully from the woolen balcony.




"gentle buds, adorning a spectrum beyond belief, delicately take their place among the arbor bodies at the back of the painting." Here you seem to be mixing metaphors. In some parts the world is a stage, other places its a painting, other places it's a movie set with a director. It would be nice to just have one consistent metaphor throughout. Also, it's not clear by what you mean by "adorn a spectrum" (unnecessary to say beyond belief, because it gives no information than the testimonial of the persona).Do you mean: a spectrum of gentle buds delicately adorn...?





Especially, avoid using adjectives to instruct the reader how they should feel about a noun "The backdrop is an awe inspiring cerulean..." The persona telling the reader something is unbelievable or awe inspiring is simply testimonial, the reader no longer experiences the world the poem creates directly, but instead experiences the poem second hand through the testimonial of the persona. The reader should always be the primary witness of the poem. For the cerulean backdrop it would be better here to come up with a metaphor or fantastical image: the sky is a cerulean mountain/ the sky is a lapis lazuli mountain/ the sky is a sapphire mountain. Something like that.





I think perhaps the trouble you've run into here is you've written every image with the volume at level 10, so there's nowhere to go when you want something to be more awe inspiring than the other details, because you've made everything high definition Technicolor, so the only thing left to do is to say it is awe inspiring, because there's nothing to contrast it with.





the melting snow as baptism is a fun and original metaphor.





I'm not sure why you have curtains close after the snow fall.

Also, I hesitate to bring it up, but the image of animals prancing around the delighted child really jettisons the poem into the realm of Disney-like fantasy. It becomes a daydream rather than a statement about reality.

hope some of my suggestions are useful.
edited by superlativedeleted on 2/8/2019
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