Sta.sh
In those final hours of June,
I trespass into fields of silver and gold,
Listening to birds singing a dismal tune.
Noire crows muse up high as I wander so cold,
To hear a morbid lullaby sailing through the air.
In those final hours of June,
I meander up streams of ruby and sapphire,
Watching birds dance to a song called ruin.
Sable ravens endure on oaken limbs burning in fire,
So fate is a sorrowful death with which they share.
In those final hours of June,
I lie upon sands of iron and steel,
Feeding those birds who will sing to me soon.
Ebony sparrows condemn me to a dead-man's meal,
If they be black omens: is heralds of dying their only care?
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My favorite line is "So fate is a sorrowful death with which they share". This line has a lot of power to it, much like the whole poem. Power is really the main strength I see here. A lot of poets have very beautiful lines and can use rhyme and idea effectively, but they lack that crucial zap that makes a poem.
There are two minor problems I see after reading through carefully. One of them is the use of the word Noire. While it is a very beautiful French word and a great substitute for black, it might isolate your readers to the few who actually understand what the word means. You always have to be very carefully with word choice, as sometimes the more intricate words throw them off from the poem.
Also (and this is just a pet peeve) the last line seems to me (although I might be wrong) kind of awkward. I feel like 'are heralds of dying' is a more appropriate line. However, I'm no grammar expert.
Other than that, I find no flaws in the poem. It is very well done, as said before, and very original. The vision is complete and well thought out, and the impact is INCREDIBLE.
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