You rap student, you.

Okay--back again. I do like this one a lot! Your meter works great, and the imagery is strong enough that the meter is almost an afterthought for the reader (which I always think is a sign that a poem is working--the "strings" are invisible and you forget the puppets aren't really people, so to speak. Yeats and Seamus Heaney are great examples of that kind of mastery--I've been so blown away by their language, at times, that only later did I realize that the form is a rhyming sonnet or whatever). I only stumbled a few places reading this: Are climes steep? I'd lose the parens here: "(and sloping glades of grain)" Maybe recast it so your sloping glades are steep or something. "which turned from diamanté lens to drear in clicking like an oaken farmhouse door." [not sure I get this--what turned? and what's "clicking" modifying?] "-It was no stream of sun – but skewing cloud" [replace weak phrases like "it was" with stronger constructs like "we lost the stream of sun, found skewing [?] cloud]--my replacement word choices are just illustrative; I'm not crazy about them either, but the point is that if you take passive, flaccid phrases like "it was" and make them more active and dynamic, it usually adds to the strength & vibrancy of the poem overall. And no-one seemed to know quite how it came to be so dark, or why it stayed so long [again, two "its" seems a lot and it's such an imprecise, nonreflective word here--I'd either recast this somehow or shorten the line and not worry too much about the syllable count] "The landscape threatened violence that day- as solar flowers threw their manes around [stronger, more threatening word than "threw" maybe? or maybe it's "flowers" that, er, throws me--I think the threat needs to be more implicitly reflected in this line; flowers just aren't threatening (unless they're creepy plant-things like bladderwort or Venus Flytrap.) ] with total disregard; the screaming slaves [what are these? workers?] in chain-gang rows. I told you it had left a ribbon track- [nice--sort of made me think of cut to ribbons, because of the earlier mention of glass in heaps] the scent of water in an earthen pitch, and lizards leaping like a joyful king. [I like the lizard/king analogy (and, no, nothing to do with Mr. Morrison)--I've had the Roethke poem, To a Young Wife, in which he begins "My lizard, my lively writher" in my head for days, so I loved that you had a lizard here. I think "leaping" might be something else though--it's too remniscent of "leapin' lizards!" (maybe that's an American expression) But still you watched the crackling, heavy orb, like insects passed too soon for storm or grace [what's like insects?] an eye cast downwards – fractured morning ice of hurricane and tempest’s broken tide. Very cool. So many good lines and strong images in this! Good poem.

I meant "only", not "onky". But still 0/10.

Very nice. Your poetry has a wonderful "feel" and flow. Lyrical and fresh.

I like some of the imagery..."solar flowers" "a million beating fists" "screaming slaves in chain gang rows", but they just don't string together that well for me.

It needs, well, structure. The rhythm's all over the place, which makes it difficult to read. A bit more invention with the rhymes wouldn't go amiss either - remember that rhyme is a rhythmic device and shouldn't be the primary concern. If you can't find a direct rhyme to fit the metre, rhyme loosely, no-one will be too concerned by it.

instead of just telling people about the feelings, it might be helpful to try to show through concrete images how those feelings manifest themselves. right now the words are so completely vague i can't find anything to latch onto.

Well, I can see from this how you feel, and that's a good thing. A lot of poets these days put a lid on their feelings, and all we get from them is language. What we want from you, however, is language. The other comments have said it; we want to read your clever turn of phrase and all that stuff. Just don't give up the other.

You know, Ranger, I always enjoy reading your poems for the language and clever phrases, but I'll be damned if I can pull many of them together and come up with some unifying picture of the poem as a whole. The meter is good here, and these are a unique ways of saying things, and maybe it's my own inadequacy as a reader, but can you come through with more clarity on the overall theme, if there is one?

I like this, but I think the three verses beginning with "poor artist" are overwrought. They say that an artist cannot one-up on nature, an often-said idea that's good, but can be shortened.

dreary doggerel.

If this were written as a piece of metric prose, I would be in danger of suffering death by orgasm.

I've got to agree with richa - those opening two lines are simply destructive. Not sure about stanza 4 - repetition of 'wise' (as you already said) is a bit shaky, but perfection is tricky to achieve ;-)

//we always lie// //we never cheat// ?

I like a bit more complexity.

Drivel. Total drivel. Dedicated April 1, 20xx by the repentant Carpinteria City Council What in Christ's name does that mean?

Weird spelling and not much talent.

with out NO without YES illiterate.

boring and illiterate

Even if it has all been said many times, the impact of it must be like that great change of address we've read so much about, but none of us can describe from experience.