On Autum's Wings

September rode on autum's wings while the black arms of the trees twisted in the mango strawberry sky.These black arms reaching out in despreat hope for something that is no longer there. The trees are weeping, softly wishing their hopes would set them free. Their garments of gold and red falling to the earth, golden treasures each one. They wisper to the wind as they glide so gracefully, secrets of love and woe from the year, passing into the breeze. They tell the stories if loss and gain while slowly flying, of laughter and smiles of the summer past. Oh, do they swoop in sunset so free, so happy, as light as air. If only they would share that freedom with me and wisper their secrets into my ear.

With their secrets gone with the wind, their burdens of tales lifted from them, they softly join the earth, learning new things from the waving grass and golden fireflies that spark so gracefully. Yet nothing compares to those sweet sweet moments when September rides on Autum's wings, when the sky was mango and strawberry smeared across a navy plain, with the moon shining faintly behind the clouds. While reaching silhouettes danced across the open air, during those few precious moments when the leaves wisper their secrets to the breeze.


(I know it's short and in block text, but please tell me what you think otherwise! Thanks!)

comments
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September rode on autum's wings (<--- LIKED THIS!) while the black arms of trees twisted in the red-tinted (two fruits is too much; as is, a bit too descriptive) sky. These black arms reach out in desperate hope for something that is no longer there. The trees are weeping, softly wishing their hopes would set them free. Their garments of gold and red are falling to the earth, each one a golden treasure Sounded very awkward the way it was before.... They whisper to the wind as they glide so gracefully, revealing secrets of love and woe from the year into the passing breeze. They tell the stories of (slash the entire section after this, you've lready established what they're doing), of laughter and smiles of the summer past. Oh, do they swoop in sunset so free, so happy, as light as air. If only they would share that freedom with me and whisper their secrets into my ear.

With their secrets gone with the wind, their burdens of tales lifted from them, they softly join the earth, learning new things from the waving grass and golden fireflies that spark so gracefully. (<-- loved this line) Yet nothing compares to those sweet, sweet moments when September rides on Autum's wings, when the sky was mango and strawberry smeared across a navy plain, with the moon shining faintly behind the clouds, whenreaching silhouettes danced across the open air, during those few precious moments when the leaves whisper their secrets to the breeze.

Not a bad job with the description. However, you got way over detailed at some points. A lot of people will tell you that the more description, the better. This isn't always true. There is a very fine line between too little and too much detail. It is a writer's job to walk that line, as to keep their readers interested without getting confused (too little) or bored/irritated (too much). Just remember that and you'll be good. Anyway, good job.

I enjoyed this very much! Good job!

~FW~

This was very nice piece! I am not usually one for stories/pieces that are solely description, but your work was highly enjoyable!

Keep up the good work!

~KJR~

As I told another beloved YWSer once, "My mind was blown by all the pretty words and sentence structures, of course, but it was blown so hard that I forgot what the heck the sentence was trying to tell me."

I will not sugar-coat it. What you have up there is deep into the territory of over-descriptive writing, treading softly on the line of purple prose. A suggestion: if you write descriptions like these, there is a way to make them more interesting, and that's to get rid of all adjectives. "But Core," you say, "isn't making descriptions without adjectives kind of like writing without a pen?" I'll reply, "Why, yes, dear Unicorn, it is. But we're writing with computers now, aren't we?" There's always a way, especially in writing, and if you find a way to do something like no one else has ever done it before, then mega-props to you. Your writing becomes all the better for it. Using no adjectives forces you to experiment with sentence structure and metaphors, and that's the pinnacle of good style, I think: a lush, descriptive style, that's beautiful and very fun to read, that nevertheless never veers into purple.

I'm not sure whether I'm supposed to comment on the content, since this is just an exercise, but I'll do so nevertheless: where you (almost) fail with overdoing descriptions, you succeed marvelously with imagery. Good on you. Now use this gift for good and not evil, and you just may get another fan.

Your soon-to-be-fan-(possibly),
cC

Hi!
Straight to the review...Meh...all I'll say is the potential is there. Right now, you've over-described, haven't used enough punctuation, and keep switching tenses. When I try to read it it's really difficult and 'clumps' in many places throught the piece. Nitpick!

UnicornNerd wrote:September rode on autum's wings while the black arms of the trees twisted in the mango strawberry sky.
Ok, really sorry, but Mango strawberry?!!! Sounds like a smootie! Try something like '...in the sky, rippled with sweet opal and delicate pink.'
These black arms are reaching out in despreat desperation hope ( scrap 'hope') for something that is no longer there. The trees are weeping, softly wishing their hopes would set them free. Their garments of gold and red falling ( scrap '...ing') to the earth, golden treasures each one ( rearrange - 'each one a golden treasure.'). They wisper to the wind as they glide so gracefully, secrets of love and woe from the year, passing into the breeze. They tell the stories if of loss and gain while slowly flying, of laughter and of smiles of the summer past. Oh, do they swoop in sunset so free, so happy, as light as air. If only they would share that freedom with me and wisper whisper their secrets into my ear.

With scrap 'with' their secrets gone with the wind, their burdens of tales lifted from them, they softly join the earth, learning new things from the waving grass and golden fireflies that spark so gracefully. Yet nothing compares to those sweet , sweet moments when September rides on Autum's wings, when the sky was is mango and strawberry eek...smeared across a navy plain, with the moon shining faintly behind the clouds. While reaching silhouettes danced across the open air, during those few precious moments when the leaves wisper whisper their secrets to the breeze.

The ideas are there - and they are good ones - but you need to figure how best to put them to paper. Anyways, keep writing!
~ Amelia