#1
crits returned.
leave a link.
I am by no means "back."


"untitled autumnal."

alone on a bench, hill over the sea.
autumn moves its wistful leaves
and lets them fall to the ground.
what was once said is now an echo,
whispering through the tunnels of my mind.

each word was a leaf
once painted vibrant green,
full of life and truth,
now turned brown and gold and red,
stained the colors of question and doubt.

our tree is thinning.
our black, twisting boughs
beginning to show.
our leaves fall to the ground,
the lies blow away,
down the tunnels of my mind.
hushed forevers
slowly shrink and
spiral outward;
toward the frozen white powder
outside.

the white snow,
a clean slate.


I stand up,
and walk away.
#2
A very nice piece, very calming yet it also has the tugging on the heart feel. I can't decide if
the last stanza
"I stand up,
and walk away."

is worth keeping. I believe the clean slate part is a much better ending.

My piece is on the front page at the moment, it's called "Candias".
#3
Quote by my name is Pete
crits returned.
leave a link.
I am by no means "back."


"untitled autumnal."

alone on a bench, hill over the sea.
autumn moves its wistful leaves
I don't like "wistful". It's a term that's generally used when in conjunction with other words that have a similar ambience or rhythm -- which the opening line doesn't seem to have. It also changes the tone quite a bit, from something interesting and intriguing, to something poetic and floaty.
and lets them fall to the ground.
what was once said is now an echo,
whispering through the tunnels of my mind.
"whispering" feels a little lazy to me. "said", "echo", and "whispering", "tunnels", "mind"... it feels a little too crowded at the moment, as well. To me, this piece needs space to breathe. As is, it's cluttered with poetical phrasings and endless ideas. When you use linguistics that are overly familiar, there tends to be too many connotations attributed to it, as so many people have attempted to find meanings out of them throughout the many times they have been repeated.


each word was a leaf
I like the way you explain everything here. It's more suited than the previous stanza's misshapenness and vagueness. You're just talking as it is here. It's more confident, less indulgent and more genuinely unique.

once painted vibrant green,
full of life and truth,
now turned brown and gold and red,
stained the colors of question and doubt.
"stained" seems a bit dramatic, but at the same time, bland. I quite can't pinpoint it.

our tree is thinning.
our black, twisting boughs
beginning to show.
our leaves fall to the ground,
the lies blow away,
This idea of "lies" is brought in a bit suddenly, imo. It's hard to see a relation to it in the rest of the piece.

down the tunnels of my mind.
I don't like this repetition like I do the other.

hushed forevers
slowly shrink and
spiral outward;
toward the frozen white powder
outside.

the white snow,
a clean slate.
I do like the obviousness again... but...


I stand up,
and walk away.
... maybe this could just be...

I stand up and walk away
into the snow;
a clean slate.


....?

It just seems less dramatic and more conclusive.

This had moments of pleasantness, but it seemed a little derivative and dramatic at times.

Good to see you again.
#4
Thanks, Dan.
I've always loved your critiques.
They're very helpful.

But here's some explanation for some parts:
The lies were the leaves.. that turned brown and blew away.
Aaaand, as far as the ending, I'm walking away from the whole situation.
Snow covered our relationship, giving it a fresh start.
I preferred to venture elsewhere, away from it all.

Thanks again, to both of you.
I returned yours, big M.
bedtime.