Summer in its 30s

He wasn't stale like Winter's breath.
He wasn't naive as Spring's
dreams,
not disintegrating like Autumn's light
before our eyes.

Varnished Summer.
Far gone from the cold months' stripey shadows, we'll
find green and gold like the
leprechaun pot of treasure at the end of Spring's
newborn rainbow.

Giddy, then ambitious, planning planning
planning.
Planning.
He is still younger than infirm Fall
writing its last will and testament in chill
drafts and dirt from dying things.

Find him steamy and sticky,
clutching like cling-wrap at your sides,
enveloping frost-bitten organs--never to thaw,
but kept in check for a blissful drunken season.

Drunken like the clouds,
like the spirit of holiday. The Varnish
cheering and mature as aged wine
undampened by rain unscorched
by lightning.

Found: more bright than starry-eyed city snow,
more vivid and robust than
deep, falling, desperate insomniac Autumn and
wise, selfless, self-assured... everything
Spring looks up to, aspires to be

Found: a lost breed of middle-age.

Wowwee. I love this. x]
It's beautifully written, and I think it flows perfectly. I'm not very good at reviews, especially with poems. So, this is probably the best you'll get from me. x]
Sheep. x

This is a beautiful poem, stuffed with imagery and metaphors I would never have thought of. When deciding whether an idea is original or not, I ask myself, "Would anybody else in the world have written something similar to this" In this case, the answer is "Absolutely not," and, thus, we have an excellent work of art.

Adnamarine wrote:He wasn't stale like winter's breath.
He wasn't naive as spring's
dreams,
not disintegrating like autumn's light
before our eyes.

Winter's breath is rather stale. And spring's dreams are naive. And autumn's light does disintegrate before my eyes. I never realized that before!

Adnamarine wrote:Varnished Summer.
Far gone from the cold months' stripey shadows, we'll
find green and gold like the
leprechaun pot of treasure at the end of spring's
newborn rainbow.

Green and gold galore! My only suggestion in this stanza is that, perhaps, the word "stripey" could be changed to "striped." It may be just me, but I feel as though "stripey" is less formal than "striped."

Adnamarine wrote:Giddy, then ambitious, planning planning
planning.
Planning.
He is still younger than infirm fall
writing its last will and testament in chill
drafts and dirt from dying things.

Dirt from dying things. So sweet and sad and thoughtful.

Adnamarine wrote:Find him steamy and sticky,
clutching like cling-wrap at your sides,
enveloping frost-bitten organs--never to thaw,
but kept in check for a blissful drunken season.

You left me speechless here. You captured that feeling of waking up and just being sticky and hot.

Adnamarine wrote:Drunken like the clouds,
like the spirit of holiday. The Varnish
cheering and mature as aged wine
undampened by rain unscorched
by lightening.

I believe there could be a comma after the word "rain" in the fourth line of this stanza.

Adnamarine wrote:Found: more bright than starry-eyed city snow months,
more vivid and robust than
deep, falling, desperate insomniac autumn and
wise, selfless, self-assured... everything
spring looks up to, aspires to be

Found: a lost breed of middle-age.

Perfect.

Hi.

I love and adore this. It flows perfectly, and your language and imagery is beautiful. I especially liked;

"newborn rainbow",

"dirt from dying things"

and

"blissful drunken season".
I love how you alternate between sordid and beautiful images, and then weld the two together.

This starts out well and immediately drew me in-my one suggestion about stanza one is that you capitalize the names of the seasons to emphasize the personification, but that's largely down to personal preference on my part.

Stanzas three and four are my favourite. I especially love how "planning" slows down and then stops- it's very effective. I'd give "fall" a capital 'f'.

I love the claustrophobic imagery in the following lines;
"Find him steamy and sticky,
clutching like cling-wrap at your sides,
enveloping frost-bitten organs--never to thaw,".
They were very powerful and the contrast between the heat and the cold was fantastic.

I love;
"Drunken like the clouds,
like the spirit of holiday",
and how warmth again is brought up through the wine and "undampened" and "unscorched".

I think that "more bright than starry-eyed city snow months" is too much. It's too long, and too conciously poetic and it doesn't quite fit in with what's come before it. I'd make it more earthy.

I do however love;
"desperate insomniac autumn",

and the final line is very powerful.

Hope this helps.

Jas

*Dingdong* Roon calling! This was fabulous, literally, couldn't tear my eyes away, but first, nitpicks!

He wasn't stale like Winter's breath.
He wasn't naive as Spring's
dreams,
not disintegrating like Autumn's light << I don’t like the word disintegrating here, it seems out of place. I think it’s a little too… not fancy, but uncommon.
before our eyes.

Varnished Summer.
Far gone from the cold months' stripey shadows, we'll
find green and gold like the
leprechaun pot of treasure at the end of Spring's
newborn rainbow.

Giddy, then ambitious, planning planning << comma after both planning’s.
planning.
Planning.
He is still younger than infirm Fall
writing its last will and testament in chill << love this line.
drafts and dirt from dying things.

Find him steamy and sticky,
clutching like cling-wrap at your sides, << I don’t think this image is poetic enough for this piece.
enveloping frost-bitten organs--never to thaw,
but kept in check for a blissful drunken season. << Why are they frozen, as far as the reader is aware, it’s still Autumn.

Drunken like the clouds,
like the spirit of holiday. The Varnish
cheering and mature as aged wine
undampened by rain unscorched
by lightening. << lightning.

Found: more bright than starry-eyed city snow,
more vivid and robust than
deep, falling, desperate insomniac Autumn and << why insomniac?
wise, selfless, self-assured... everything
Spring looks up to, aspires to be

Found: a lost breed of middle-age. << love this line.

Okay, so there wasn’t too much to pick at, it’s wonderful! It is truly beautiful. But before I praise, I must give advice on improvement.

I think in places it didn’t flow as well as it could do, for example the stanza two. I don’t know why, but when I read it aloud, it doesn’t all sound as though it fits, if you see what I mean? I don’t think the cling-film image really works here. The rest of the poem is spot on in terms of imagery, but that feels wrong somehow.

Other than that, I don’t think there is anything… it’s so hard to think of improvements when it is this good already! Lol. I think the idea behind this is wonderful, and the writing is amazing. As I said, your imagery is great, it’s compelling, and powerful. Although sometimes it can get a little confusing, maybe you could work on the clarity a little.

Thank you for posting, it was a pleasure to read and review!

~ Roon