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    dots Submission Name: REBIRTH.dots

    Author: edcherry
    Elite Ratio:    6.91 - 197/67/22
    Words: 114
    Class/Type: Misc/Misc
    Total Views: 701
    Average Vote:    4.0000
    Bytes: 699


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.


    Wind whistles through the wire-strung fence,
    as it moans and groans like an old bassoon,
    through grieving leaves, as it bludgeons trees
    by thrashing their boughs 'neath lowering clouds.

    The sky grumbles long, by adding its song
    to the musical score, while lightning's flashes
    highlight the wonder of flooding rain,
    now soaking the earth, dispelling the drought.

    Dawn breaks clean on the transformed scene,
    where rain-drenched soil, still warm from the sun
    prepares the stage for the seeds to play
    their roles for the drama, of Harvest Time.

    Submitted on 2010-04-16 05:48:01     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      "Dawn Breaks on that transformed scene."

    Wow. That's a brilliant way of drawing a curtain on the first and second stanzas and ushering in the third; it makes the poem feel more complete, though generally I like the longer stuff and this feels like it leaves a story unfinished. Beautiful, but leaves me... wanting more, I guess. I feel like the story has more to tell, and that bugs me, but the imagery is so damn pretty I'm willing to waive that for the moment.
    | Posted on 2010-04-18 00:00:00 | by Shadowstar13 | [ Reply to This ]
      You've hit it! That one little 's' makes a big difference!
    (the verb is quite obvious to confusables, now!)

    Feedback on feedback is pretty cool; thanks for that.
    | Posted on 2010-04-18 00:00:00 | by latentlylyrical | [ Reply to This ]
      An interesting perspective on spring, and all it's glories!

    I especially like the first stanza. Makes me think 'beware the ides of March'. The groaning bassoon and grieving leaves are wonderful images.

    I found only one stumbling spot: lightning flashes.
    I believe you are using 'flashes' here as a plural noun, as in the bits of light bursting from a storm. It is a bit confusing though, since 'lightning flashes' can also read like the 'flashes' is a verb; and then reading directly on to another verb, and the mind must retrace and reinterpret.
    Perhaps, just making 'flashes' into 'flash' and 'highlight' into 'highlights'? Just juggling the placement of that 's' might clarify things to the confusable souls like me.

    Thanks for sharing this delightful look at the changeable weather of the season!
    | Posted on 2010-04-17 00:00:00 | by latentlylyrical | [ Reply to This ]
      I really liked this. There is some powerful imagery here, and the first two lines come on like the wailing wind you describe. I can see the weathered old fence, standing strong though it is whipped by the driving gale, animated by the unseen force that drives it. I absolutely love the grieving leaves, dry and withered from seasons past.

    Yes, it is as though nature grieves for its own sake, as it enters the perpetual cycle that gives it death; then rejoices upon its rebirth. We can feel it too, as with nature we are so inexplicably intertwined.

    I liked the flow especially in the first and last stanzas, but the second read a little awkward to me, somehow breaking the flow. I couldn't even begin to tell you how to reword it, because I am terrible with reconstructing pieces I like, but I am absolutely confident that with a couple of simple word alterations it could be perfect.

    I just know you were seeing this scene when you wrote it, perhaps even watching from a nearby window. This is the feeling I had while reading, that it was far too real to be imagined.

    Spring breathes with a life of its own, and you have infused your words with its rhythm. The last lines wrap it up nicely, painting a contrast; though we are at the mercy of nature it also gives to us patiently if not always evenly.

    | Posted on 2010-04-16 00:00:00 | by Soul-Hugger | [ Reply to This ]
      :) It sounds like a beautiful desolate garden just before that Spring wand gets waved, and green starts eating up the brown dirt...

    I like the internal (?) rhyming in the first lines of the last... part (stanza? I am addle-brained, don't mind me)... Beautiful piece, it has that fringe of its-coming to it.
    | Posted on 2010-04-16 00:00:00 | by Runes | [ Reply to This ]

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