Young Writers Society

I. Love. This. Poem. The imagery is wonderful and the concept is amazing! But, just one thing. Even I used to do this before until someone told me: You don't need to begin every line with a capital letter. It just isn't needed unless the previous line has a full stop.

Alone, I stand in the shadowy autumn dusk
#FF0000 ">a sweetness tasted in the air, remains;
And the evening smells of softest, darkest, musk.
To leave this place would break me in my heart#FF0000 ">,
#FF0000 ">but I can longer bear to be apart.

I watch the clouds lay down, on the horizon, #FF0000 ">(Somehow, 'lay down' doesn't sound right here. I think it should be 'lie down'. Or maybe that's just me.)
And start to feel the shawl of night descend;
The reddened countryside, more so, within the sun.
To feel the moons attention turn my way,
#FF0000 ">sends my heart and mind, away to yearn for day.

The house behind me beckons me as well,
#FF0000 ">but I will find no comfort in those arms;
In darkness I wander, farther then I can tell.
I rest myself upon a seat of stone, so cold
#FF0000 ">and I sit, as the days, and I, grow old.

Nice deep poem with an ominous feel. I like it.

Alone, I stand in the shadowy autumn dusk
A sweetness tasted in the air, remains;
And the evening smells of softest, darkest, musk.
To leave this place would break me in my heart (Break me in my heart doesn't sound very good. Break my heart would suffice.)
But I can longer bear to be apart.

I watch the clouds lay down, on the horizon,
And start to feel the shawl of night descend;
The reddened countryside, more so, within the sun.
To feel the moons attention turn my way,
Sends my heart and mind, away, to yearn for day.

The house behind me beckons me as well, (Repetition of "me" sounds a bit wierd.)
But I will find no comfort in those arms;
In darkness I wander, farther then I can tell.
I rest myself upon a seat of stone, so cold
And I sit, as the days, and I, grow old.

Everything I didn't correct is great! Brilliant poem.

Wow, this deep. I honestly have nothing to critique with this piece. It seems very well thought out and intriguing. It's the kind of poem that makes you wonder who the narrator is or what the topic is about.
To give my own interpretation, I imagined myself as Death himself, watching over the landscape as he awaits another soul to collect.
I really like this piece and I think there's only one thing left to do- *like*.

~Disenchanted. Out.