A ripple in the melody (Edit 1)

[R.C. KITCHENS]

EDIT 1

In Spring, the dead grass
catches the sun as do the hibernated tree's.
They are between cycles.
I watch bee's zip and glide in the air.
Slowly hovering above flowers and
blackberry bushes, touching the surface,
barely landing upon the bud or fruit.
Above, buzzards circle over a dead carcass.

As I descend into madness, time stops
I have been circling a weeping willow tree
with an axe in hand.

I would like to chop at one of the branches
so it would stand crookedly to the left.
But, I am in no chopping mood.
Ants march up and down the grass blades.
Grasshoppers jump around in what looks like
a symphony of sequenced leaps.
Noise comes from mocking birds as they mock
other's.

The Well house pump clicks on and chatters for
awhile and clicks off leaving me with thoughts that
wander like a Coon hound picking up a scent of fox.

Circling the weeping willow with an axe in hand,
I swing hard and fast connecting with soft wood.
I repeat the action till I have cut loose the branch.
It falls to the ground like my Spirit. My Spirit like
a dirt road in a rear view mirror.
Scattered and dusty.
Slowly I pull away the branch while wind drags
away my flesh.

original

The month is march. The dead grasses
catch with the sun and so do the hibernated
tree's. They are coming back around through
there cycles. I watch the bee's zip and glide
in the air. They slowly hover above flowers and
blackberry bushes, touching the surface,
barely landing upon the bud or fruit.
Buzzards circle in the air over a dead carcass.

Time seems to stop as I slowly descend into
madness. I say this because, I have been
circling a weeping willow tree with an ax in
hand.

I would like to chop at one of the branches
so it would stand crookedly to the left.
But, I am in no chopping mood.
The ants march up and down the grass blades.
Grasshoppers jump around in what looks like
a symphony of sequenced leaps.
Noise comes from the mocking birds as they mock
other's. Well house pump clicks on and chatters for
awhile and clicks off leaving me with thoughts that
wander like a blue tick picking up the scent of rabbit.
What have I done today?
Circling the weeping willow with an ax in hand, I swing
hard and fast where I connect with soft wood.
I repeat the action till I have cut loose the branch.
It falls to the ground like my Spirit. My Spirit like
a dirt road in a rear view mirror.
Scattered and dusty.
Slowly I pull away the branch while the wind drags
away my flesh.

[cidermaid]

Hi RC, I liked the nature details and feels of this one but feel that there is a lot you could trim out without loosing any of the essence of the poem.
I'll try and show a few examples in stanza 1.

The month is march. The dead grasses
catch with the sun and so do the hibernated
tree's. They are coming back around through
there cycles. I watch the bee's zip and glide
in the air. They slowly hover above flowers and
blackberry bushes, touching the surface,
barely landing upon the bud or fruit.
Buzzards circle in the air over a dead carcass.

In March, the dead grass
catches the sun as do the hibernated
trees. They are coming back around through
thier cycles.* I watch bees zip and glide
in the air. Slowly hovering above flowers
and blackberry bushes, touching the surface,
barely landing upon the bud or fruit.
Above, buzzards circle over a dead carcass.

*(Coming back does not feel like the right phrase here...they did not go on a journey as such - although I understand the idea...Surfacing from thier long sleep to begin the cycle again. Perhaps not a great poetic line...but this is your poem to re-work so just putting a thread of thought out for you).

Time seems to stop as I slowly descend into
madness. I say this because, I have been
circling a weeping willow tree with an ax in hand. Could be an American spelling thing but I think it should be axe. (You do spell it the same below so will just leave this question for you to check up on)
I really like this stanza it has a disconnect to the nature pictures yet remains pastoral - nicely done, subtle notes.

I would like to chop at one of the branches
so it would stand crookedly to the left. Not sure the image matches the action. ( Did you mean because it [the branch] stands crookedly to the left?). A tree either grows crooked or has to be trained into a shape.
But, I am in no chopping mood. I really like the sentiment of these first three lines...it makes me think -is the tree / branch going to be reprieved?...also begins to feed in the idea that you are contemplating more than just the branch, good intro for your metaphore, which now makes me re-assess the info from the stanza above.
The ants march up and down the grass blades.
Grasshoppers jump around in what looks like
a symphony of sequenced leaps.
Noise comes from the mocking birds as they mock
other's. Well house pump clicks on and chatters for
awhile and clicks off leaving me with thoughts that
wander like a blue tick picking up the scent of rabbit. I don't know what sort of animal a Blue tick is
What have I done today? This line feels isolated and abstact, either give me some more feed on this such as make it more in relation to the business of the nature observations or take it out as it stands it does not add anything.
Circling the weeping willow with an ax in hand, I swing (ax / axe spelling question again)
hard and fast where I connect with soft wood.
I repeat the action till I have cut loose the branch.
It falls to the ground like my Spirit. My Spirit like
a dirt road in a rear view mirror.
Scattered and dusty.
Slowly I pull away the branch while the wind drags
away my flesh. I like your ending and think that overall you have done a nice job with giving your poem depth.

As ever, just honest opinions and some suggestion for your consideration.

AJ.

[serge gurkski]

The month is march. The dead grasses
catch with the sun and so do the hibernated
tree's. They are coming back around through
there cycles. I watch the bee's zip and glide
in the air. They slowly hover above flowers and
blackberry bushes, touching the surface,
barely landing upon the bud or fruit.
Buzzards circle in the air over a dead carcass.

Time seems to stop as I slowly descend into
madness. I say this because, I have been
circling a weeping willow tree with an ax in
hand.

I would like to chop at one of the branches
so it would stand crookedly to the left.
But, I am in no chopping mood.
The ants march up and down the grass blades.
Grasshoppers jump around in what looks like
a symphony of sequenced leaps.
Noise comes from the mocking birds as they mock
other's. Well house pump clicks on and chatters for
awhile and clicks off leaving me with thoughts that
wander like a blue tick picking up the scent of rabbit.
What have I done today?
Circling the weeping willow with an ax in hand, I swing
hard and fast where I connect with soft wood.
I repeat the action till I have cut loose the branch.
It falls to the ground like my Spirit. My Spirit like
a dirt road in a rear view mirror.
Scattered and dusty.
Slowly I pull away the branch while the wind drags
away my flesh.

Hi RC,
I loik it ;-
You have typos but I'll leave the cndescending mock editiing to the natives.

Indeed your message comes across (to me). It is is beautifully mad.

(agree of course with AJ, queen-bee of cider's ( ;-) remarks.

the title: very catchy IMHO

thank yoou for the red
have a fine day
cheers and poof


serge

[Vistaldust]

I've been reading this several times. I am on vacation in the Smokey Mountains. I went on a hike yesterday in this hills. Your descriptive imagery makes me wish I had taken notes while I walked up the mountain side and noticed different odors from the trees. But, let's be serious, I wouldn't know how to describe them. That's why I'm reading your stuff! A great lesson. I'll have more to say as I digest this poem a little more.

[R.C. KITCHENS]

AJ, thank you for your critique. When I am writing, I don't realize that some words are superfluous. I am still learning the basic of poetry and your examples of condensing and cutting away words not needed has been a good learning lesson for me. Sincerely thank you, and I have made some adjustments to my poem on your advice.

Serge,Thank you for the help. Glad you enjoyed it. Cheers

Vistaldust, Thanks for reading. You'll recall the hike and have some good imagery from it.

[cidermaid]

Hi RC, some really good edits - will be back later to have another look through.

[cidermaid]

Had another look through and think this is delivering well on several levels.
the one line I did feel was perhaps letting you down is: Noise comes from mocking birds as they mock
other's. this feels alittle flat and lacking, so although your intent to convey an image of the two faced and deceptions of others around the narrator (i think) the line is not quite delivering for me and needs the introduction of some poetic devise or other to make it bounce or sing to read aloud. (The main guily party is the word others at the end) each others rounds it out but will loose meaning. Again just my thoughts.

Other than this some good editing done.
AJ.