Two more sonnets. Let me know what you think of them.
A statue of an almost-human goddess
stares cat-like from a weathered pedestal.
The frailty of this creature, and her oddness,
contrast with the unmarred and classical
surroundings: images of warlike men,
pillars arrayed in strict geometry,
an altar shaped into a hexagon,
magnificent in its simplicity.
Another room, concealed beneath the altar,
contains a table hewed from blackened stone,
some crooked text, an etching of a halter
upon a human, and a single bone.
The goddess crouches in the upper room,
but this uncertain chamber is her tomb.
<b>The Veil of Nature</b>
A solitary flower draws my gaze
from the congested foliage overhead.
The blossom hardly fits among the bays
and oaks with their colossal limbs outspread.
This tangled web of branches sometimes seems
no more than an elaborate disguise,
as though the browns and interwoven greens
were merely a screen behind which Nature lies.
Moreover, when my reason is at ease,
my eyes can glimpse a form behind that veil:
I watch the branches shifting in the breeze,
as gradually the twilight starts to fail,
and see, around the leaves, an emerald gleam:
a mossy eminence; a forest’s dream.
The extraneous information seemed to stifle the more memorable bits of description. This wasn’t good for the descriptive impact of the poem and its image.
On the other hand, I still can’t tell what you were feeling when writing them (a slight melancholy is evident in the first one). Describing two scenes you liked is fine by itself, but I didn’t really feel drawn in and consequently thought the poems lacked a point.
There is a style there and the sonnet form provides a rhythmic backbone. I liked “mossy eminence”.
My conclusion: More frugality and feeling. Or in the words of Elvis “A little less conversation, a bit more action”.
The usual disclaimers apply.
edit: Extra points for the Zelda connection
The second was certainly too wordy and descriptive. What do you think of this revision?
<b>The Veil of Nature</b>
This web of branches sometimes seems
no more than an ornate disguise,
as though the interwoven greens
are a screen behind which Nature lies.
When reasoning begins to ease,
I glimpse a form behind that veil:
The branches waver in the breeze,
and just as twilight starts to fail
begin to show a mossy gleam:
an emerald blush, a forest’s dream.
What, no mossy eminence?
It’s better now. The fewer verses serve the poem well (as the cut lines were basically more description of the same subject).
It also seems now that you (the poet) is more interested in the sight itself and not in herself describing it