Italy, July 2006

The heavy air promises a storm.
As we climb up,
the clouds climb down.

Breath is elusive. I trip, fall.
You look back to offer help
but I wave away your hand.

With freshly grazed pink knees,
torn hands and raw knuckles,
we reach the dusty orange top.

I turn to smile at you.
We lift our heads to the skies
and let the rain wash away the blood.

A beautiful sentiment, but the only lines with any profound meaning were in the first stanza. In any case, I am sure that profound is not always the aim of poets. If I am missing something, I apologize. If not, this is gorgeous.

Very quiet and pretty. 'Gorgeous' is a good word for this. I enjoyed it very much, especially

With freshly grazed pink knees,
torn hands and raw knuckles,
we reach the dusty orange top.

Sorry, no critique.

Basically all I can say is what xanthan gum has already. It is a nice poem. I don't think I would change anything about it, although the first stanza is my favorite in the piece. The phrasing is good, the form is good.

This is an unusually soft peice. It isn't as blatent as some, but it is very good, and was very well written. I want to read more.

Yes, I agree - this is a lovely soft piece. Not sure about the second stanza - the last line seems a little (dare I say it) cliche to me, but otherwise it was beautiful. There is perhaps a hint of profundity there but it's not blatant. Excellent.

Oh... the first stanza is just GORGEOUS. I love how it contrasts the images and characterizes the clouds. And it makes it seem like the people are meeting up with the clouds... perhaps to touch the face of God? Anyway, it's really lovely stuff. The first stanza is absolutely marvelous.