Nadie's Graveyard

5 posts
User avatar
Gender Female
Points 3950
Reviews 15
Father spoke of a world where
graveyards are unheard of
because little girls
become dandelions sprouting
in the lush meadows
beyond the horizon of a
Kentucky farmhouse
as they fall asleep for
eternity.

I thought I would see her
in my garden
amongst the yellow violets,
fresh tulips, honeysuckle scent
and daisies with welting petals.

But the dandelions here do
not have Nadie's
loose french braids,
rosy complexion
darted with freckles,
iris stained like indigo.

Nor did they blush
when I blew
a tender kiss to
the dimple on
her left cheek.

Mother thought I
was foolish to suggest
nature be so kind,
tired of my late night
trips to the field,
nightgowns covered
with pollen and soil,
white carpet gone grey
from the dirt that
taints my sole.

But I see now that
heaven is a much
better place for her-
there both angels and
little girls embody
all things precious.

I will still tend
to the garden for
Father, of course.

And for Mother,
I will now be
in bed before late.

But Nadie, dear sister,
beyond my reach
in the skies,
to find you I
must always look
far past twilight's gaze.




User avatar
Gender Female
Points 8572
Reviews 424
Okay, Hi, I'm Demoness!
I think this piece has a great base, you've got some great ideas, and good lines and descriptive stuff. I do feel that it's a bit messy right now though, you jump from one thing to another without really finnishing the last. Your stanzas are incomplete, and I like it better when they are all of the same size, that's my opinion though so off course you don't have to obey me completely but yeeh - It brings a better overall impression if you keep a pattern :) So what I think you should do here is bring some order into this mess - spice it up a slight bit more and express and explain each stanza a bit further, I'm left a bit unsatisfied at the end of each line. I like the ending though, it's hopeful even though the rest of the poem was sad.

If you don't get with me calling things messy and incomplete I'll take this stanza as an example;

" And for Mother,
I will now be
in bed before late." - This doesn't bring anything to the poem, it doesn't make me feel anything and it doesn't say much at all really. I think there must be something deeper between the narrator and her mother than just the time she goes to bed... that can't be all that has changed, right?

Overall, this was great but it needs some polishing - I'll give it 2 and a half of 5 icky spiders, but halfway there, Nice job!

Good Luck & Keep Writing

// Demoness
"Some say the world will end in fire;
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice." - Robert Frost




Random avatar
Gender Male
Points 1040
Reviews 7
I like this poem its just unbelieveble that passion comes a long way in a poem.




User avatar
Gender Female
Points 913
Reviews 53
I think this poem should is capable of making you a super duper poet. No kidding. Apart from the grammatical structure that needs reconstructing, you did a very good job in bringing life out of the characters in the poem, you brought passion out of the poem and I could read it a thousand times over and still feel it. It is also very explanatory to an average reader. Good job. Keep writing.
'when I'm gone, my words will remain...
your word is a weapon, either of destruction or re-construction, whatever you make of it,
It's your choice.'




User avatar
Gender Male
Points 1235
Reviews 24
This poem somehow reminded me of that eccentric young blonde girl in Harry Potter, who speaks to dead people and all. Anyways, I actually read it in her exact voice and it turned out to be quite a nice experience. I sure do like how naive the narrator is, by wanting to find beloved Naidie's exact attributes "...amongst the yellow violets,
fresh tulips, honeysuckle scent
and daisies with welting petals."

This adds somewhat of a captivating spice, and makes the narrators sadness all the more apparent. I'm sure if all of nature took mortal form; the narrator would beat the hell out of it! hahaha

Ah yes, this was the most touching stanza I found:
"Mother thought I
was foolish to suggest
nature be so kind,
tired of my late night
trips to the field,
nightgowns covered
with pollen and soil,
white carpet gone grey
from the dirt that
taints my sole."

Truly beautiful. Keep up the passion and never let it go alright.

--Abyss.



If food is poetry, is not poetry also food?
— Joyce Carol Oates