Poetry / certainty (Analysis)
hope springs farewell, for
summers fleshy morbid glory,
while quiet tells of
autumns stance against
the pressing new year
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Great use of a classic form. When reading, I felt as though I was thrown back well into the past. Have you thought about expanding on this?
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I dont really understand it, maybe it’s too deep for me. Interesting layout though.
it reads like a sad goodbye to summer.
“morbid glory”—read a bit odd to me, like an oxymoron
“autumns”—autumn’s
the anxiety of winter and a new year. short and sweet. i enjoyed this. thanks.
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