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WHERE TIME STANDS STILL

On this deep December day
with all leaves now gone away
like hummingbirds, just memories,
forgotten on the sharp chill breeze
the naked limbs are set to sway.

The cold has firmly taken hold
and brought to heel decay and mold
while stilling pools with frozen glaze
where cattails quiver on cold days
when northern winds grow bold.

Even daylight has retreated
as if darkness is now greeted
while the world drifts off to sleep
here within this woodland keep,
another cycle soon completed.

Yet when I wish to be alone
far away from fax and phone
at this recumbent time of year
I often find myself back here
a place, to most, unknown.

So now well past my harvest ball
I answer to the woodland's call
while year and I have both grown old
with stories to remain untold.
I feel at one with all.

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?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 

Comments

I like not only the subject addressed, but also the construction of the piece. Your meter is flawless except for Stanza two, Line one. In that line I'm forced to accent "taken" on the second syllable to keep your meter and I think it's critical because the rest of the poem does not waver.
Now for something real nit picky. Your first stanza is a single sentence (no problem there), but it is an incomplete sentence. By the time one reaches the end of the stanza most readers won't even notice, but I did. You said "On this deep December day...", then more description of the day, but no where do you mention "what". On this day what happened? The answer of course comes in the next stanza, but then I have to question the stanza break.
Does this make sense?
Like I said this is all pro nit picking, but it made me nuts... alright, nutsier.
wesley

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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I'll give S-2,L-1 a biy of thought and see what I can come up with. And you are correct the 1st stanza beginning line of next stanza to become a complete sentence. But structure requires a 5 line stanza and I don't really see a cure absent a major rework of first stanza. Of course that is not out of the question and a night's sleep may reveal an easy solution to both trips. Appreciate the visit and catches. Perhaps this blind pig will find an acorn yet lol.....................stan

author comment

ask people to consider taking out words, but here I am, thinking maybe you might add a few!
This is the way I see it.

Forgotten on [a] sharp, chill breeze
[a] firm hold
a change of words here; [icy] instead of cold
the cold has now taken [a] firm hold
[with] northern winds grow[ing] bold
a place to most, [still] unknown
I feel at one with [it] all

I like your title, your language was fine
and the context flowed smoothly all the way through. ~ Gee

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I always value your ideas. I'm looking this poem over and hope to smooth out the rough edges in the next few days. Thank you for comingby...............stan

author comment

good feedback and suggestions from wes and gee, so
i don't need to go there...i can just praise away!

i LOVE this!
i was able to sort of lose myself in it as i was reading...
not too often that happens for me when reading rhyme.
very often, forced rhyme and uneven meter just
spoil it for me.
not this.
to my ear, very smooth rhyme and meter...just flowed,
and made for a reading left my senses free to completely enjoy
the unfolding.

thank you

cheers
p

I'm always kind of surprised when an edit of an older poem results in a comment. And this edit has already taken account of excellent suggestions. So thank you Wes and Gee for finding areas in need and thank you P for letting me know the edit works.................stan

author comment
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