Description: Most of the people who commented on "The Leaf" did not seem to understand the poem. The use of the word "crumble" was important to the whole idea. As the leaf crumbles and blows away it is finally free. It crumbles...loses form and substance and turns to dust. It is no longer held to constrictions and becomes like the soul....bodiless.
People mentioned that once it falls from the tree, it is dead. Yes, maybe...but it still maintains identity. It has substance. It is in leaf limbo, so to speak.
So once it become bodiless...it is free from the world. Never again sentenced to hang from the tree, never looking back....
Do you see?
The Leaf -------------------------------------------
As a leaf crumbles
and blows away
it is finally free
traveling on the wind
never looking back
in all directions
Never again will it be
sentenced to hang
from a tree
Hanging on to all
it has ever known
letting go only
when it has no choice
a prisoner all it's life
by dying is now free
I like this poem it could be taken in a literal sense or can be construed as many things. Graduating from highschool, moving out of your parents house but in any case it was a good poem. I like to think of things in a literal sense around here, Since the leaf is dead it has no fear and feels no pain but can be manipulated easily and a stray leaf in my backyard gets picked up put in a bag with dog [censored] and thrown away. Thanks for the poem.
Wow. This poem really reminded me of the fall and how much I like it. I think I really get what you're saying, and it reminds me of a poem by Stephen Bohler called "Decision": "The leaf joins the breeze, and is swept up in the wave. It wonders. Was is she who joined the breeze, or did it carry her away? Did she fly from the tree, or did the tree force her off?"
First off I must say really cool topic. Second I must aknowledge the style is overwhelming and very easy to read. But drawing someone in with style makes them sensitive to it and I must say this last part:
a prisoner all it's life by dying is now free
To me it seems like you knew you were writing this really cool stylized poem that flowed like butter but you had to wrap it up somehow and you struggled for a way to wrap it up maintaining said cool style. I guess what I'm trying to say is that the ending doesn't quiet live up to the rest as far as style goes, it's more content related.
Suggestions for Perfection:
1) Find another ending that matches the bad as s style of your piece.
Whether this advice is taken or not it's still above and beyond as a poem, good luck with all you write.
I loved your poem and the concept of release, but I'm not sure who was holding and who was letting go. Isn't it more like the tree holding onto the leaf, letting go only after the tree has taken all it needs? You speak of the leaf letting go only when it has no choice, when did it ever get to choose? Maybe a small point, but it is the one I tripped over. Not at all hard to edit if you had a mind to, the poem still stands by it's theme, just who lets go and why would change. For what it's worth, Dave
I've never thought of leaves as prisoners. interesting... *Sigh* this isn't minimalism...I dont think people on Elites actually know what it is. I've seen very few minimalistic poems on elites...i recall one by myghostlikestotravel, and one by on1aday..(now known as daysleeper) Most minimalism appears to be repetitive jibberish, and there is something hidden inside...and usually very difficult to figure it out. I can't even name off the top of my head a great minimalistic poet...hmmm..i'll get back to you on that.. I enjoyed this poem for its simplicity and easy reading. Leaves are prisoners, yeah, thats new to me. MyX
I like Jan's suggestion, for the same reasons--and it dispenses with the repetition of "never" I liked the metaphor, of letting go though ,in order to fly--be free at last even if only briefly --and implied is new adventues, new beginnings in every ending. I would like to see a different verb other than "crumbles" in the first line--because it suggests the leaf was a goner already--they really fall after turning gorgeous colors--then take a while to dry up and die--if I were a leaf i would rather die in all my autumn glory, dance on the wind and travel about air-borne for a few days--then just dry up to crumbles and be dust on the wind--LOL. Perhaps withers? or blushes. I like the poem, it's good as it sits, I just think it could be even better someday. Silver
That is ... ... ... I find myself at a loss for words. My favorite part of autumn is watching the leaves turn, fall... raking them up, on the other hand!
Just one thing... line 9 "sentenced to hang", and then line 11 "Hanging on ..." Another word play? Not sure. Try "clinging" there instead... having the two forms of "hang" so close together feels slightly awkward.
Minimalism indeed... 16 lines... on one snapshot image... I can see one brilliantly red maple leaf clinging... then flying as that last puff of wind carries it away. Beautiful. C'est magnifique'! <><
This is a great metaphor. This reminds me of a story on the television today. This woman was kept as a slave by her family on a farm in Cornwall. She had to wait for her mother and father to die before she could be free. She's happy as a lark now because she can do as she pleases. She's never even had a boyfriend. It was too sad.
i know i've read this one of yours before, have i not? i loved it then and i love it now. my favorite season is autumn, and i love watching the leaves fall from the trees and blow through the wind. i like the way you describe it as being set free. we are all set free by dying, i think. beautiful! great metaphor for life.
i seem to remember commenting on this awhile ago...i loved the idea of emancipation at the least expected moment...endless possibilities once you just let go..but letting go of the things that hold you can seem daunting, nigh impossible...hard to look beyond your world and see another one...never knowing your imprisonment until you have to give it up...and clinging to the end to something holding you, misplacing your walls for floors...and yet there is comfort in this, that even death will not stop the spirit from roaming free, that it may be the only way...all directions open, to be traveled singularly or simultaneously...
the revisions do help to add to the minimalistic tone, allowing the metaphor full development without over saturation...and the hope rings true...i think this might have already made my favorites list, but it will do so again..an excellent write, even if you just take it for a piece about a leaf, and nothing more...
Hmm.. I think this is the first poem of yours that I didn't take to. You use "never" really closely together and I reckon that a different word would work just as well and perhaps lend a better impact.
gah... I don't want to rubbish your work but I really just can't get into this. I suppose because I always see the leaves falling as a joyous moment but in this case.. there is liberation yes, but it doesn't seem happy. Like the poor ole leaf didn't want to go...
I am absolutely speechless, dear friend. This is so incredably beautiful. It is definitely going in my favorites! A lovely beautiful bit that is the same time strangely dark, Freedom only through death...kind of like life with a govornment like ours, eh? Beautifully done, i applaud you. ~Sicobe R. Crow
PS. No matter what trouble you had with that silly Elf person, put your work back up. I love your writing, and I can say that I really miss seeing all of it. Don't let someone else push you down.