winter:
I know you are
the white signal of trees;
my last word of skies and shrunken
swallows
In a list
A contest entry
- Prewrite Mania 3 by Celticmoon.
800 points, ended May 27, 2008, 49 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - The Ultimate Goal by N e a r.
20000 points, ended June 2, 2008, 946 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please give some honest and constructive criticism -
Comments
1 - 24 of 24
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A sense of deja vu here...I don't know. Nevertheless the sensations really plays well with the subtle imagery you've penned. good luck
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excellent~
Love the imagery in these few lines..
Indeed you have described Winter
Short...and so very true
Best of luck in the contest...
Hugs
Susan~~~
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WOW!! Thats very creative for a 14 year old and very very impressively worded nd framed!! The flow is intact and ur imagery and message trickles through perfectly! Excellent!
pri
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You can write perfection using so few words!
Each time you leave me with eyes and mouth open, thinking of, admiring and loving your poetic soul.
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Liked the alliteration used in these few lines, the flow and the images that one gets when reading these words. Nice presentation as well, liked the background used.
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Succinct and sublime. Flows like a river a truths with crisp winter ponderings.
until exhale,
Grimoire -
hmmmm....a most curious non-haiku, transparent, channeled and mildy obtuse, but not without a certain pryoclastic charm..
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Interesting
It made a lot of sence to me!
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The remorseness of winter is carried well in this short imagist poem.
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short and well penned, i enjoyed reading this but the words "I know" seem a bit irrelevant. in a piece like this, i think the shorter the better, and those two words don't really have as much meaning as the others. just my opinion, thanks for sharing
keira
- liloven -
I really like the simple complexity of this piece. It flows well, is easily relatable and yet has a great metaphoric quality as well. A very smooth and delightful read to be sure. Thank you for sharing this with me and best wishes to you in all of your endeavors. Keep that quill dipped in ink and ever ready for use dear poet.
♥ Touchof1der -
Good going
SO SHORT and smart
and sweet too
good going indeed
with all blessings -
wow this is an amazing poem, with fantastic imagery.
i love your reference to winter as
the white signal
it has so much depth and dimension to it. great write, thanks for sharing i really enjoyed reading -
I like the image it brings but to be honest the "I know you are" is just not sitting well with me. It sounds like you are talking to "it" more than musing so to speak.
Maybe something like this:
You,
the white signal
of trees;
My last words,
of skies
and shrunken swallows
Just some thoughts
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sorry, nami, forgive me for falling behind
this was pretty, young child. your mother has been teaching you well, huh?
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Almost a cinquain.... totally beautiful...this one says and shows so very much, Namita
It shines like a blue-white diamond...
~ Nicolette
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you amazed me yet again.
I love how winter is "the white signal". And poor "shrunked swallows"... headed north to hide from the cold.
You rock my socks. 
~Cassie
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Another piece of poetical gem... Perfect!
~Sonja~
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The swallows and martins are a group of birds characterised by their adaptation to aerial feeding. These marvelous little creatures are fast and powerful and graceful. They are miniature hawks, gentle and beautiful in their spirit, yet wonderous in their ability to feel and swoop like petals across the sky. A shrunken swallow might be a refusal to accept the refrain nature takes from the colorful and fanciful life of spring, Summer and even Fall. Yet the swallow is undaunted and goes where the warmth goes, sometimes, sometimes not. They are beautiful and free.
Your fine little poem is beautiful in the same way a swallow is beautiful, or the sky whose nature and colors remain unchanged by seasons. Their friends, the trees sing their song they carry as seasonal changes for them. Their signal is their shape changes and their colorful declines and ascents.
The poems lines are fluid as air, yet they are within a narrow confine in which you have purposefully placed them, and the result is the same as playing a trumpet or a flute, the air goes in yet its power is muted, then reborn, and becomes something alive because it has been distilled, sublimated, refined by the close confines. It has become more powerful.
I like this short verse. It has the gentleness of a cinquain, the power of a ballad and the unity of air, birds, trees, seasons and the refusal to accept the repose of winter as anything more nor less than ongoing life and patterns.
thank you entering this fine and beautiful poem
,,,Moqui
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very pretty...just like you
love it!
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No...it is you who sings the music to ones soul. Even in as few lines as this. Love ya back.
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Wow, absolutely magnificent. I jump in to your breathtaking moments and simply sigh... x Many blessings, Lavender Butterfly..
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