when i saw the winter turn on you, pulling it's laughter through your breath it was not as some well known painter recalled; black paint on the cold walls. remembering so evenly the end of November that grew from nothing and of which nobody, i believe, could possibly have thought after- the uncharmed landscapes, you use to say though you were born into an unimaginable fall i died less often on the eve of your voice. tonight they left footprints of shadows on your hands that hung like a bracelet to your wrists and thought the preparations for a departure like this must have started as a tiger in a cage.
Something about that closing stanza that has the kernel of magic! Keep at it. One draft becomes another and then there's gold.
that poem was kinda chilling... verry beautifull. Im quite surprised you havnt gotten more feedback on this poem... Well I liked it. a lot
yep, this really is just a draft, i basically wrote it right into the thread. thanks for the comments
fantastic job here, I really loved the flow of each stanza, at how each one contained a complete thought etched out in vivid imagery. There's also the tone you used, almost a mythical presentation that really sets this off. With just a little tightening up I think you'll have one impressive piece here!
