Photograph to Sand

Spoiler

Ok, this poem was one of the saddest I've ever written, and preceded by a long, nostalgic talk with one of my friends in England. None of you will understand all of the background of this, but I'm going to post a little of our conversation here. Please read it, if only to give you a small, small amount of understanding of the events here.

"Even though I see the others (at least some of them) about once a month (maybe less) it's weird and painful, because (and I'm sure you know what this feels like) this year I've pretty much -
my whole world taken away from me and sometimes (like tonight) it feels like I'm trying to hold sand in my hands, the tighter I try and hang onto it the more it seems to be slipping away... Now I don't claim to have it worse than you, because I know that I don't, but it still hurts and I really thought I'd shaken off all this lonelyness..."

Me: "I don't know what to say, because I'm not you and I can never find the words, but I feel the same about just feeling everything slip away, it's a race against everything that I'm doomed to lose. I don't think it's about anyone having it worse, because the collapse of my world is different to the collapse of yours, and each is more painful to the one it involves."

The "Three friends in a car" refers to when me, the friend I was talking to, and another friend were in a car, going to see a show. I'm a slightly obsessive believer of tempting fate *touchwood* and the other two think it's completely ridiculous. So, they were tempting fate, then throwing the only wood in the car (small sticks) out of the window.
It's one of my strongest memories of being with them. (I'm now in New Zealand, and trying so, so hard to get back to England) Now they're all going off to different schools (they/we were all homeschooled) and I just (along with most of them I think) wish things could go back to how they were.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. Please don't be too harsh on this one, as it was very painful to think about and to write.

Cold,
I stand alone.
The edge is as close as I get
To you.
I don’t understand this.
I don’t know how to be there,
How to say it,
How to tell you,
If it even matters.

I watch,
As the collapse of my world is mirrored
By the hands, clutching sand harder and harder
As it pours away.
In a desperate bid to stay the rush of time,
I run in the last race, the one that can bring the memories to life again
But it’s rigged,
I’m doomed to lose.
And as the finish line draws ever closer,
I wonder, second-guessing myself.

I wonder if my struggles are worth it
Or if I’m just too late...
Because when they reach it,
They pass through different doorways.
The key in my hands shudders,
And becomes a photograph.
Three children laugh out of it
At me.
Their smiling faces a picture of innocence.

They laugh at the stick flying out of the car window
While I strain against those same children -
Older now -
To reach the doors.
But my effort is useless,
For as hard as I try
I was never close enough.
I arrived at the party a little too late,
That time when the in-jokes are made,
And the groups are reminiscing
Over what’s already passed.

I come to the last of my strength.
And the photograph is sand,
The last grains disappearing through my fingers
As I fall, in sight of the doors.
Everyone runs past me
And I know now
No matter how I try to believe it’s not so,
I was always on the edge,
Cold,
Alone.

Nice poem! What attracted me were the first and second lines:

Cold,
I stand alone.

Nice work, keep them coming!

I really, really like this poem! You've got a great style that I think is really unique! I really son't have much to say about this, you've got great grammar, spelling, word choice, imagery... You should write a lot more please!

So this is Tiger here to review, and don't worry, it won't be harsh. Because there's nothing to criticize really.

Well, I've read it. And I've read the spoiler too. And really, well done.

First of all, you showed your sadness beautifully, with imagery that complimented it perfectly. I can easily empathize with your pain in reading this, because it's so clear. I can also empathize with it because this is the same way I felt a few years back when I moved away from the life and friends I knew.

In imagery and it writing down your emotions, there's nothing I can correct. There are only a few minor nitpicks I can find in this, so I'll mention them so this is more of a review.

I wonder if my struggles are worth it
Or if I’m just too late...
Because when they reach it,

By they, do you mean your friends? I'm sure this is probably what you mean, but it's a little difficult to tell, seeing as you've only mentioned a single friend by the time this line is written.

Their smiling faces bordered by innocence.

That word, bordered, just makes me uncomfortable. The imagery is hard to imagine; maybe you could use another word? Maybe ...faces the picture of innocence, or simply Their smiling faces innocent.

But my speed is useless,

Considering you mentioned straining against the children, it's doubtful the speed was very fast. Maybe effort would go better here?

That time, where the in-jokes are made,

When, because you're talking of time. And maybe you could get rid of the comma too.

That's it really, because I'm truly only being pedantic now. This was a beautiful, heartfelt poem. Truly, it was. It makes me sad to read it actually, because I myself haven't talked to my old friends for ages, even though I'm back now. Maybe I will. Amazing job, and definitely KEEP WRITING!

Tiger

P. S. *likes* (I wish I could do this more than once) And I hope you get back to England soon (though the weather is terrible this time of year. Never mind the joke).

Hey Vampyre, I'm your reviewer for today.

Seeing as this is a very emotional poem for you, I'll try not to go on a nitpick overdrive...but I will inject some bits of advice about later works.

I wonder, second-guessing myself.

I absolutely hate this line, not because it's bad or anything but because it throws off the flow of the poetry that I was becoming so deeply immersed in. Re-phrase maybe?

I come to the last of my strength.
And the photograph is sand,
The last grains disappearing through my fingers
As I fall, in sight of the doors.
Everyone runs past me
And I know now
No matter how I try to believe it’s not so,
I was always on the edge,
Cold,
Alone.

I love the ending and the way there is a realization that you may always be on the outside and alone. I think maybe you could have added a bit more imagery, for example keep asking yourself why until you can't answer why. I like this idea simply because this has happened to me before. I feel like this is something people can relate with which is good. I also feel like this could have been better written as there were a few loose words that hindered the flow of the words...otherwise I enjoyed reading it. I think you should try other poetry themes, and also one you're not so attached to emotionally. I'd love to review it.

Hope this helped,

Anger.

Cold,
I stand alone.
The edge is as close as I get
To you.
I don’t understand this.
I don’t know how to be there,
How to say it,
How to tell you,
If it even matters.

I watch,
As the collapse of my world is mirrored
By the hands, clutching sand harder and harder
As it pours away.
In a desperate bid to stay the rush of time,
I run in the last race, the one that can bring the memories to life again
But it’s rigged,
I’m doomed to lose.
And as the finish line draws ever closer,
I wonder, second-guessing myself.

I wonder if my struggles are worth it
Or if I’m just too late...
Because when they reach it,
They pass through different doorways.
The key in my hands shudders,
And becomes a photograph.
Three children laugh out of it
At me.
Their smiling faces bordered by innocence.

They laugh at the stick flying out of the car window
While I strain against those same children
To reach the doors.
But my speed is useless,
For as hard as I try
I was never close enough.
I arrived at the party a little too late,
That time, where the in-jokes are made,
And the groups are reminiscing
Over what’s already passed.

I come to the last of my strength.
And the photograph is sand,
The last grains disappearing through my fingers
As I fall, in sight of the doors.
Everyone runs past me
And I know now
No matter how I try to believe it’s not so,
I was always on the edge,
Cold,
Alone.

REVIEW

Even though this poem is all depressing and stuff, it was good. I think what it does best is capture that feeling of sadness that comes from thinking about the old days.

The rhythm felt off throughout, but it didn't bother me as usual.

Also, it does an excellent job of allowing the reader to visualize what's happening.

Lastly, I really liked how you semi-repeated the opening lines at the end.

I know it's a short review, but I just didn't have a lot to say about besides it was rather good.

Heya. Here as requested.

Read the poem, read the spoiler, and read the poem again.

This poem wasn't half bad. Once I read your spoiler I saw how you tried to cover absolutely everything in one poem. You managed to somewhat capture a situation very personal to you and make it relevant to the reader, because the emotions are rather universal.

However, you lost a lot of your punch with dangling metaphors and not finishing imagery properly. Notable examples:

The edge is as close as I get
To you.

Not so much you don't finish the imagery, but you only reference it again at the very end. The "edge" is a bit ambiguous, making it hard to really place as a reference and almost looks like a throwaway line. The best I can guess is it's the edge of a photograph.

They pass through different doorways.
The key in my hands shudders,

First mention of doorways and keys.

They laugh at the stick flying out of the car window
While I strain against those same children -
Older now -
To reach the doors.

Mid-line location jump. It's also a moment of slightly odd logic, as you never mentioned anybody else in the race to the doors. What made me notice the location jump in the first place.

~

The least-connected metaphors are the race and the doors. I'd focus on making them stronger, to make the poem feel a bit more complete. You do a good job tying it all together at the end, but I find that the unconnected beginning robs this poem of really resonating with the audience.

I think I'll leave it at that. I know what you mean about life veering in multiple different directions, especially when you go from homeschooling to different schools/activities (I was homeschooled). It's difficult which would explain the more blatant wording in the first two stanzas. You make up for it a bit with the metaphors in following stanzas— those metaphors just need to be stronger.

Hope this helps. PM me if you have any questions.

~Rosey