#1
My last piece before Autumn.

The sacred fire was cradling its last logs
before its sleep at the end of summer,
and night was settling itself into the sands.
Your eyes were milky moons
and your fingers danced through your dreadlocks,
holding each one alone up to the fire light,
blurring their colours in the smoke.
You told me what each of their stories were.

This red is the rock atop the mountains
and this orange is that of the dunes,
this is the blue of painted buildings,
this is the green of crops with their flowers in bloom,
this is the white of the stone in the cities
and this is the yellow green of the mint tea
and this is the gold of the stone by the shore
and this is the turquoise of the sea

We're leaving at the setting of the sun.
When the fire burns out we'll pack up the tents
and hitch back to the van.
We'll leave with the cool night
sinking into the silver of the roads
with spliff smoke in our throats
and blowing out of the windows.
If we drive quickly we'll be there by tomorrow.

And in the morning they rode towards technicolour dunes
and I rode through the metal highways, until England was in view
down a long black tunnel caked with gasoline smell.

I called her from a payphone
and through a thousand miles of cable
asked what Morocco was like in summer.
Through the high tones in her voice
the desert shone through.
She sang these dunes can dance;
they miss you.
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!
#7
I'm not sure how to take the southern drawl comment. I'm sad that what it means to me didn't get through to you.

My sig is lyrics by Jackson Browne from the song 'Something Fine'. When writing for the country comp about Morocco I had two points of inspiration; that song and the situation I'm describing, both of which I felt fitted the same idea. I wanted to fit this scene to it.
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!
Last edited by DigUpHerBones at Jul 8, 2009,
#8
Quote by DigUpHerBones
My last piece before Autumn.

The sacred fire was cradling its last logs
before its sleep at the end of summer,
and night was settling itself into the sands.
Your eyes were milky moons
and your fingers danced through your dreadlocks,
I'd remove "your", and replace it with a nice adverb. I think it'd work better like that.
holding each one alone up to the fire light,
blurring their colours in the smoke.
You told me what each of their stories were.
The rest of it was perfect, I honestly have nothing to say about it.

This red is the rock atop the mountains
and this orange is that of the dunes,
this is the blue of painted buildings,
this is the green of crops with their flowers in bloom,
I think you should just try to fix the rhythm here a little. It's close to perfect, but because of that, it made me notice that it wasn't perfect.
this is the white of the stone in the cities
and this is the yellow green of the mint tea
and this is the gold of the stone by the shore
and this is the turquoise of the sea
Again, perfect.

We're leaving at the setting of the sun.
When the fire burns out we'll pack up the tents
and hitch back to the van.
I didn't like the fact that you changed the rhythm completely here from what it was in the last stanza. It wasn't horribly annoying, but I'd try to get rid of this rhythm in steps, so it's not like pouring a bucket of cold water on the reader.
We'll leave with the cool night
sinking into the silver of the roads
with spliff smoke in our throats
and blowing out of the windows.
I'd change "blowing" to something, perhaps slightly more 'relaxed', if that makes sense. Something that fits the mood more.
If we drive quickly we'll be there by tomorrow.

And in the morning they rode towards technicolour dunes
Hated technicolour
and I rode through the metal highways, until England was in view
down a long black tunnel caked with gasoline smell.
This last part, though no doubt intentional, unfortunately killed the mood for me a little. A bit too much of a harsh contrast, for my liking.

I called her from a payphone
I always thought it was a guy . Perhaps suggest that's it a girl slightly earlier on? But that's a minor detail, and I don't expect you to haha.
and through a thousand miles of cable
asked what Morocco was like in summer.
Through the high tones in her voice
the desert shone through.
She sang these dunes can dance;
they miss you.
I'd change this to "they dance for you". That's how I like it. But damn damn damn damn this is one of my favourite things off the forum. I love it.


Picking out the nits.