Sienna at Burnt Twilight

[billy]

i have no idea if you have a rhyme scheme or not. i'd say not but the rhymes you use work very well and aren't in my face.

i've read this a few times and i need more reads of it. it has a sense of loss but not a melancholy sense. there's a need to move on to remember but not to linger on what/who was. i think it needs some tweaks. maybe a few words could be cut without harming the poem, and if possible a smoothing of a couple of lines.

above all, the poem held me, i presumed something of an artist in the pice because of the title.

thanks for the read and great to see you post some poetry.

ps, could you please capitalise every 4th word :J:

.
In the blackness of the night, feels a bit cliche as a first line, (feels cliche as any line really)
I ghost out under monochromatic light,
and know the gentle breeze is you.
I feel you brush against my face:
causing an unseen silent tear,
knowing you are, and are not here,
thoughts like prayers muttered in haste
into voids of unmeasured space.
This is not melancholy gloom,
a fog on stagnant stilted pond:while i like the S's stilted doesn't work for me. i see stilted as raised or stiff,
it is the strand that binds quintessence not sure what the quintessence means in this usage.
through all the present haze is [all needed]
as life beats ruby crystal time i like this line, rubies being connected with timepieces and crystal representational of quartz movement (i know what i mean)
through the ancient hallways of my mind, is the needed?
where lighthearted laughter once did play, [once did play] sounds newbish/yodera speak, why not once played [though i do see it wouldn't rhyme with away
but now stays far, far away.

Awake good child: Puck or Pan,
we need a boy now not a man.
One who’s always ready with a smile,
who never fears the darkest night; blackest night, darkest night...pretty common word use
anyone he can beguile. i found this line awkward
Then round the maypole we’ll all come,
and into pies we’ll stick our thumbs,
eating jelly or the crumbs,
nor turn such verities intolerable. this line read awkwardly

Once before waste laid this land,
when all was one and thus thought bland,
my brothers ached for different times.
So they changed our quiescent course,
placid mare traded for unbroken horse. this line felt awkward without reading the above line two or three times
Their change rendered fire from the skies,
not the valiant thumb for pies. i like the repetition of thumbs and pies.
Only after did they rue their vow,
and in one voice cry,
“change our choice back now!”
but our powers were long bled,
thus we found we had no choice,
but to the violence of our souls give voice. two buts too close together

So is it any wonder that it brings a tear,
to the child, sickled urn lying near,
having tumbled off it’s lofty perch,
and war is now the same as church,
all broken into pieces?

I long for you upon this dawning day
in this wintered, withered month of May, unusual paring winter and may (i think it works)
for I know that it is true,
—I cannot turn from this frigid breeze—
that is and is not you.

—Erthona