Life is fatal.

Answer 1: 77
Answer 2: 70

May your harvest be speedily completed. Cheers.

I love this. "War" doesn't seem right though for kites praying of fireflies. The fireflies can only try to dart away. Then as "letters" of birds reel above, it seems some connection with the first line is needed. Like "razed haze of high English summer"

I don't see why you would plagiarize something like this. Maybe it was something else you copied, can't say. Yeah, being pretty doesn't matter sometimes, but hey, it's a great quality if you've got it and can use it instead of some other stuff. Okay, I'm preaching.

It would be chic to say the rhymes detract, but where sentiment is important, why not? Not bad.

Are you the same person as Lydia Evelyn, or do you just share the same computer?

A lot of prose here, but not a lot of meaning. Could use a lot of shortening.

After the beating you took on Recycled Stardust, I thought how good it is to read poetry about science-philosophy and how your efforts might improve. I mean this constructively:
Time's End by Quarton
On mountain's towering white crest,
Winter’s hold weakens in warm spring winds,
Tiny droplets freed from frigid grip,
Meld in rills of pristine water,
Gaining strength,
Like visceral search for truth,
Reflecting life's odyssey through time,
Dancing splashes of clarity and meaning.

But as rivers cease to run in Autumn,
So too us,
Slowly, aging waters recede,
Current diminishes to a trickle and disappears.
All traces gone,
An arduous journey
From creation to realization, to oblivion,
Another cycle completed.
Harbinger of spring's re-emergence
The renewal of passage begun anew.

Reminds me of an enprawning.

Yes, it sounds sappy as you say, but what are friends for?

"Brooding and unpretentious" well describes his life. "The moon has grown fat" on a stellar evening - maybe. Maybe a star fades or turns from red to black.

Wise advice from her mother. Easier said, setting her free.

I've never quite felt this way. Either I feel happy to be an insignificant creature in a beautiful world, or I feel sad in a world that appears ugly. Maybe you mean awestruck at your littleness compared to Nature.

Yes, it's been said over and over, but if you'd shroud it in some tricky prose or metaphor we'd gush all over you.

It's hard to comment on something so vague, but:

Shadows can be anything I want
Flames a hot breath
Fragments of bliss
Memories remain though
Evidence fade
The undone haunts again
Opportunity lost
I carry the heavy urn
Spread ashes among the young,
Growing trees

Funny. Why the ?? at the end?

Good Title. Good ending. In the middle, you have some good lines, but the flow bogs in side issues and themes not very well connected to the main story. Not that they don't connect, I'd just work on how you connect them. Especially like, "when reality becomes fantasy and perhaps returns back to reality once again."

Though this appears to be heartfelt and a thought worthy of poetry, the presentation falls short of one of the best definitions of love I've read and a touching ode to a fallen sister, both by the same poet. It's not just you; a spirit of depression seems gripping poemranker like a disease in a beehive. I feel like a prodical daughter returning to find the houses boarded up and the homefolk moping around.

Yes, I read it anyway, and it's as good as most of what's come down lately.

Too General. Spelling and grammar errors detract. A good thought like this needs focus.