Footsteps in the sand

5 posts
User avatar
Gender Other
Points 89625
Reviews 1272
I watched the swing I had jumped off
sway in the breeze--
Two years ago,
I would have never done that.

The play structure is next,
A place to sit and think.
The only thing this new one
is any good for.

I remember the old structure
all made of wood and plastic,
but it got torn down after one too many burnings.
Only a metal shell is left; the only plastic is slides.

There's nothing left to this new contraption.
No tubes to crawl through,
no climbing challenges.
Everything is safe; fun-less.

The summers I had spent here were endless--
They all blended together in my mind.
The playground games, the times I had gone home crying,
But for each bad memory there were three to replace it.

I look to the street,
another place my summers had been spent.
But all my old friends were too old to play.
It was as if we didn't know each other anymore.

I look down to the graffiti
posted on the slide.
It's plastic- at least it would wash off.
I wish they wouldn't post that where kids play.

I stop and wonder
about the line I just thought.
... Where kids play
Does that mean I'm not a kid anymore?

I look at the ground around the structure,
A place that had been decorated with countless sandcastles
and the place I had lost many games of Grounder.
But I don't do that anymore.

I sigh and leave
the place I had once called home.
My childhood here--
is now only footsteps in the sand.

~~~~

I wrote this while sitting in the park I'm talking about. Remembering. All of this is 100% nonfiction. Enjoy!

~Rosey
Last edited by Rosendorn on Sun Mar 29, 2009 12:36 am, edited 1 time in total.
A writer is a world trapped in a person— Victor Hugo

Ink is blood. Paper is bandages. The wounded press books to their heart to know they're not alone.




User avatar
Gender Male
Points 1040
Reviews 189
Hey Rosey! Jon Here!


How reminiscent of you, Rosey. :D
Anyway! The review:


Two years ago,

I think a dash would have been better suited with the line above this one. You change ideas/times so I think there should be a pause. :wink:

but it got torn down after one too many burnings.

So the play set was burned down? Try to use a symbol here. Say something like, "I can still see the ash on the ground." We will obviously know that it was burned down, and, it makes for a good line too. :D Two birds with one stone Rosey, two birds. :D

No tubes to crawl [s]threw,[/[/s]quote]
through

Everything is safe; funless.

'funless' is not a word. However, 'fun-less' is. :wink:

But for each bad memory there were three to replace it.

Three what? I know you probably mean good memories, but, say that. Otherwise, I can't be sure what you mean. It could be three rhinoceros for all I know. :lol:

I wish they wouldn't post that where kids play(.)

Period?

Does that mean I'm not a kid anymore?

Why would that mean that? You still seem to be playing on it in the poem. This line makes little to no sense to me. Although, I do like the idea around that question. Try to polish it. :wink:

But I don't do that anymore(.)

Period?




My childhood here

was now only footsteps in the sand.

Add a dash after the beginning sentence of this quote. Get rid of 'was' in the ending line.


So: My childhood here --
now only footsteps in the sand.


Overall: I liked this poem, Rosey. It was something different I don't see all that much in poems, which is a child's memory coming in retrospect to who you are now.


Good job, although, it could be polished a bit more.


---Jon---
:D
Gay Writing/Support Group. Gay or not, spread the word!

Support GLBT people -- God does.

Got YWS?




User avatar
Gender Female
Points 7829
Reviews 239
Heya Rosey.

I'm not so good at reviewing poems and I usually never read them, but this one caught my eye.

I like how you showed the prospect of growing up in this. The things we, as adults, are going to miss. Your poem made me quite sad.

I know, not much of a review. But it was a lovely poem Rosey. Good job.

Happy Writing!

Meadow
Purple light in the canyon
that is where I long to be
With my three good companions
just my rifle, pony and me

--- "My Rifle My Pony and Me"




User avatar
Gender Other
Points 89625
Reviews 1272
Edited. Thanks Jon!
A writer is a world trapped in a person— Victor Hugo

Ink is blood. Paper is bandages. The wounded press books to their heart to know they're not alone.




User avatar
Gender Female
Points 1290
Reviews 7
That was beautiful and heartbreaking.
"Eve was not taken out of Adam's head to top him, neither out of his feet to be trampled by him, but out of his side to be equal with him, under his arm to be protected by him, and near his heart to be loved by him."
-Matthew Henry



Today I bent the truth to be kind, and I have no regret, for I am far surer of what is kind than I am of what is true.
— Robert Brault