She Went to the Beach and She Took Off Her Shoes

She went to the beach and she took off her shoes,
the salty air stung her nose,
the salty sand soothed her feet.

She went to the water's edge and she waded in,
just past her knees,
her dress would go no further.

Her dress had went further once,
the pain surprised her,
the boy did not love her.

She went to a rock and she embraced her shame,
the salt water now brushed her cheek,
the sobs went in and out with the waves.

She went to the beach and she took off her shoes,
it was the evening after they had went,
they had went to the beach and she had taken off her dress.

(I usually don't write poetry, it definitely is not my forte, but I really wanted to write this. The picture was taken by myself last summer, I thought it was a perfect match.)

Hi,

Welcome to YWS! I hope you like it here.

The first thing I'd do is rate this in your title, as I don't think it's suitable for younger readers.

Now over to you beautiful poem! The opening imagery is gorgeous.

In the second stanza I'd change the comma after "knees" to a dash or semicolon.

I'd change "had went" to "went" or "had gone".

I really love;
"the salt water now brushed her cheek,
the sobs went in and out with the waves."

I think that the last stanza is a little weak. Again I'd change "had went" to "had gone". The list line is a bit anti-climactic. I'd try to introduce something new in this line.

Hope this helps. I really enjoyed this and hope to read more of you.

Jas

I think I'll refer to you as Eito for convenience.

Eito, there's a certain essence about a writer that gives away their true identity. For you, it'd be bold subtlety. I've seen a lot of poets convey double meanings and twisted innocence many times... But this seemed new and refreshing. The imagery you give when she's hugging the rock, crying as the waves move forward and back... It makes my stomach churn because I can feel in my own heart the regret and hauntedness she must feel... And personally, I read so far into the waves moving with her sobs. But maybe I'm just perverse. Very well-done. I can't wait for more, Miss Not-a-poet Eito.