Enough

[Bruce V]

When I was a boy
On our farm in Kentucky
I would lay on my back in a field
Of tall, golden broomsedge,
Hidden from all the world
Beneath a yellow sun and azure sky
Surrounded by warm golden light,
With puffs of cloud floating by,
A redtail hawk soaring,
Whistling,
Owning the sky.
It was enough.
It was enough.

[rowens]

This is a poem that I'd come across in a book of Robert Penn Warren, and it would be enough, surrounded by his "bigger" poems.

It would be a counter-affect, kind of, in a Leopardi book.

It stands on its own and is enough in a world of poems. Either enough for somebody, or more to say, or read. This poem can be both. A freer verse Thomas Hardy.

All the particulars of poems and things: This poem relaxes in the general. Whether people think in poets or take a poem alone. 

It succeeds.

[Bruce V]

This is a poem that I'd come across in a book of Robert Penn Warren, and it would be enough, surrounded by his "bigger" poems.

It would be a counter-affect, kind of, in a Leopardi book.

It stands on its own and is enough in a world of poems. Either enough for somebody, or more to say, or read. This poem can be both. A freer verse Thomas Hardy.

All the particulars of poems and things: This poem relaxes in the general. Whether people think in poets or take a poem alone. 

It succeeds.

Quite an erudite response.  I thank you.  I wrote this a few years back.  Only started reading Penn Warren a couple days ago and didn't know he was also from Kentucky.  
I may have to take a look at Leopardi;  he's new to me.  My first post here.

[RiverNotch]

Limpid.

I've not much to say---maybe this critique is too short for Intensive---but the repetition of the color yellow here is maybe something to gnaw on, alongside the mention of two other primary colors (albeit redtail hawks aren't particularly red). Then you have the move from the sense of sight to the sense of sound with "Whistling", and a rather cutting sound too, followed by the more abstract conclusion to the whole piece....again, it's all very direct, very limpid. Can't really suggest anything, other than maybe cut "azure" so that the poem really is all gold, but that's a bigger maybe than earlier. Nice work.

[JohnS]

When I was a boy
On our farm in Kentucky
I would lay on my back in a field
Of tall, golden broomsedge,
Hidden from all the world
Beneath a yellow sun and azure sky
Surrounded by warm golden light,
With puffs of cloud floating by,
A redtail hawk soaring,
Whistling,
Owning the sky.
It was enough.
It was enough.

I haven't yet acquired the necessary knowledge to provide a critique at this level, but I want to say I enjoyed the poem very much for its sparsity and its conversational language.
I would say the poem would be slightly improved by the deletion of the "yellow" and the two "goldens", I think they detract rather than add to the imagery. I also might not repeat the last line - one was enough. But, what do I know?
Thanks, enjoyed it.

[Bruce V]

Thanks for the insights into this little poem. I recognize there is a lot of color reference here, perhaps too much. I was trying to convey the experience as it happened....the overwhelming awareness of light and sound. As for the repetition of the last line: I was always struck by Frost's lines, "And miles to go before I sleep/ And miles to go before I sleep". It seems to evoke an almost dreamy feeling, and I was moved to try it here. Still, I am happy to hear other perspectives....always welcome.

[rowens]

The colors are what they are, enough. Though, the same or similar effect could come of saying warm sun, which you do, or other sensual descriptions. Though all those are implied already. And sight is often the predominate sense, at least on an apparent surface level. So, so far, so good.