Appreciation

[E.A Rumfield]

Today, hungover,
I lay lethargically in bed.
Lazily looking out the window,
a beetle crawls across the screen.
The sky is a blanket of clouds
and it is unusually hot.
A bird, fly's in
opens its wings to brake
expertly snatches the beetle
off the screen and in one motion
is gone.
Sometimes life
just asks for an appreciation
of the subtle,
like witnessing the kill
or watching the rain
soak the world,
while standing under an
umbrella.

[E.A Rumfield]

Waking up, last nights memory
like a foggy mirror,
slowly begins to clear.
Waking up to last nights memory
and today's consequences,
the smell of cigarettes and stale beer,
a hacking cough, and a thirst
you can't believe.
Clearing my crusty eyes
and how bizarre
I don't even remember going
to the zoo.

[E.A Rumfield]

Tender are the strings of my heart
pluck them softly and,
let the music drift into space
I can be your accompaniment tonight
it is summer in my soul.
Stars speckle the sky
and music scents the air,
water flowing smoothly
over rocks, slowly
crafted into pebbles.
The trees engage in an ancient dance
partnered by the wind.
The moon casts its hand,
silvery, with soft steps and bare feet
she strolls
across the dew wet meadow.
The birds have long since
gone to sleep, but
the crickets are chiming in.
A sudden rain, starts to fall
and we, run for cover
boy and girl.
If only for a moment,
I'm happy just to be
Our clothes are wet
but I can keep you warm
with the heat that radiates
from the furnace that is
my soul

[E.A Rumfield]

Orange and black stripes
vertical, violent and sharp
coarse fur coats
a muscular body
Large attentive black eyes
skillfully survey the landscape
It senses before it sees
an animal rustle in the leaves
Tracing its movement
across the lush forest floor
It is a young deer
Brown fur with soft white spots
a delicate stride and
thoughtful eyes
carelessly nibbling at foliage
the tiger with such grace
and tender steps
moves in
slowly at first
the deer continues grazing
so close
the tiger pounces
with such speed
so precise
jaws around the neck
a giant paw caresses
the soft brown fur
the soon setting sun
still shines through
the thick tree roof
and a bird flys
from one tree to
another

[Xillus_Xavier]

I really like this. The language is quite nice, though there is room for a little tightening.


Tender are the strings of my heart
pluck them softly and, ("and" could be cut)
let the music drift into space
I can be your accompaniment tonight
it is summer in my soul.
Stars speckle the sky
and music scents the air,
water flowing smoothly
over rocks, slowly
crafted into pebbles.
The trees engage in an ancient dance
partnered by the wind.
The moon casts its hand,
silvery, with soft steps and bare feet
she strolls
across the dew wet meadow. (dewy meadow)
The birds have long since
gone to sleep, but
the crickets are chiming in.
A sudden rain, starts to fall
and we, run for cover
boy and girl.
If only for a moment,
I'm happy just to be
Our clothes are wet
but I can keep you warm
with the heat that radiates
from the furnace that is
my soul


The punctuation needs to be reconsidered. There are places in which it is lacking, but I didn't mention them above because I'm not so sure if you shouldn't just make the poem without it at all. It seems like one of those poems that could be better off without it. Hard to say for sure on that.

Overall, I really like this.

[hillwalker]

I'm sorry, but I'm expecting something (anything) that shows some originality of thought here... and I'm not finding it. These poems look like the ruminations of a day-dreamer with lots of time on his hands. Not exactly enlightening reading.

H

[Emil Miller]

Edited:

[hillwalker]

??

H

[Jeos]

Today, hungover,
I lay lethargically in bed.
Lazily looking out the window,
a beetle crawls across the screen.
The sky is a blanket of clouds
and it is unusually hot.
A bird, fly's in
opens its wings to brake
expertly snatches the beetle
off the screen and in one motion
is gone.
Sometimes life
just asks for an appreciation
of the subtle,
like witnessing the kill
or watching the rain
soak the world,
while standing under an
umbrella.

Another good title for this poem would be "Noticing"...!

aren't you in the following verses :

"Sometimes life
just asks for an appreciation
of the subtle,
like witnessing the kill
or watching the rain
soak the world,
while standing under an
umbrella."

somehow saying the same you said in the first 13 lines? Whatever... to me the more poetic verses are "sometimes life..."etc till the end. They are terribly ...fateful.

Best

[E.A Rumfield]

I'm sorry, but I'm expecting something (anything) that shows some originality of thought here... and I'm not finding it. These poems look like the ruminations of a day-dreamer with lots of time on his hands. Not exactly enlightening reading.

H

Oh well. Some people think Warhol was a genius.

[hillwalker]

Is this your 15 minutes of fame then?

H