It's raining in November The roof is crystalline Grey eyes will not remember, Nor will I. Dark roads and evening A path still traced Formed as you were leaving- Won't erase. And the fog's moist mouth Pursed against my window Words drifting out Who'll know- Just what it said November night and rain One heart read, And won't again.
I don't like it, kidder. You have annoying and abbreviated closing lines. And if it's night don't you think it's also 'dark'? Also it's sappy, sentimental and the kind of stuff librarians stuff under their pillows. Or up their skirts if they're feeling lucky. Back to the table, spoonhead! Yours, hiphop gyrl
Wooh harsh criticism but i admire your honesty. I Think its overly sentimental but if its how you feel then go with it. I like the wording of the 2nd last stanza though
Actually, one could take the connotation of "dark roads" to indicate moreso the inner turmoil resultant of a poisened judgement to which the conscious mind is sort of schizophrenically oblivious, though the sub-conscious, through multitudinous heiroglyphic, repeatedly attempts reconciliation. And to beat one self up over sentimentality is ridiculous. For is not all Art essentially the channeling of pathos? And "that path still traced". The lingering residue of decisions made, "won't erase", meaning that the very reconciliation of conscious and subconscious is to be sought not in the denial of these failures, but in the embracing of them as necessary steps in the Work of Universal Resolution which the Alchemists of Olden Times cryptically and quiptically refered to: solve et coagula. And November. I could write essays and essays on the significance of this time of the year as a sort of cacooned reflectionary debauch of the soul. But it is apparent to me that the sum of Wisdom in regards to any further comment is Silence, for despite the vast array of words with which I could assail you on the matter, I am inept to convey to you your own personal revelation, though I see it struggling to free It Self from every utterance of your Being. eMBeMLaHV!
Free as a Bird, thanks for the comment. And, Osiris, I still haven't figured you out yet but I do appreciate your commenting. Your writing style and mine are polar opposites but I'm getting better at wringing the meaning and intent from your efforts. And you're right- November is a defining month; in the past, it has been my most productive one for writing. I love to hear criticism of anything I do because it allows me to understand how an audience thinks about my methods or their effectiveness (or lack thereof). Many are sensitive to criticism thinking their poetry or prose embodies who they are. Nahhhh. They're products. Personal graffiti. And we all need to improve. Thank you!
