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BY THE FIRE PIT
Far too cold to hear the crickets sing
on this clear November night
with moon encircled by a ring
and stars above so dense and bright
The tic of leaves the only sound
as they fall gently from the trees
to come to rest on frosted ground
while puddle edges start to freeze
On distant road the headlights glow
flickering through the oaks and pines
where pale mushrooms sprout and grow
among the honeysuckle vines
Barred owl inquires about your cook
from beyond a distant ridge
within his secret, hidden nook
a train whistles from the river bridge
Against my side I feel you shiver
as we sit before a dying fire
on a night that's destined to deliver
the first hint of coming warm desire
Style / type:
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity):
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction):
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Editing stage:
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Comments
Candlewitch
Thu, 2011-12-29 13:03
Dear Stan,
This is a nature poem with true heart! I am envious, and wish I had your way with rhyme. You really know how to turn a phrase! The title doesn't do it justice, but I don't know what to suggest. My favorites are the last lines:
Against my side I feel you shiver
as we sit before a dying fire
on a night that's destined to deliver
the first hint of coming warm desire
*sigh...
I have no suggestions as I think this poem is perfect as is.
always, Cat
*
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scribbler
Thu, 2011-12-29 14:05
Hi Cat
I am so pleased you enjoyed this but I'm also aware perfection is beyond my scope lol............stan