Run-away

I enjoyed this. But I'm not entirely sure what to say. I'm trying to pick apart the meaning behind it. But, I fail at crap like that sometimes.


Beautiful, as always.

Its definately well put together. I like it. Then again, I'm not to into poetry but I love poems that don't rythm. Don't know why. I like it though.

Brilliant. Simply brilliant. I love this! I like the whole thing. What else can I say? *aplause*

In this stanza:

More surprised that it was I who took
one yardstick-flurry from my mother...

it was a little confusing because it seems like something should come before, as if there is something being "more surprised" at this action, yet there is no noun before it.

what sting would I have felt
listening to the attic fan draw out the heat,
the soft lines of my brother’s empty bed harder to take
than the sharp lines of my mother’s loss-struck face?

I don't think that this should end in a question mark, as it seems to be more of a statement than a question.

I liked these lines:

one yardstick-flurry from my mother,
and when that didn’t measure fully her wrath

[side note] Because of the title, I was singing "Runaway" by Del Shannon as I read this. ^_^

I love your voice, really I do.

But this one didn't quite fulfill your usual....ness.Yeah...

I guess it was a little too...expected?
"We thought about death,
the solidity of walls,
in cartoon ways. "
That was cool, as was
"The hardest part was raising
the window screen. "

But overall, I didn't find it as emotive par usual, or even quite as beautiful.

But all the same, it was a good piece.

Mwha. Now that your poems are not completely pretentious, I find myself liking them more and more.

When my mother came looking for him,
I was surprised as anyone by his faint knock,
how his eyes widened to see her
flinging apart the curtains.

Why would he being the one knocking? In this case, I expect his mother to be the one knocking, as she is the one who is coming in. Or maybe I'm missing something...?