Booms and Pings

BOOM.
Ping.
First time I’d shot a gun.
I’d only put my eye up to it,
and gently pulled the trigger,
aim ever so slightly to the left.
I promised myself I’d do better next time.
Jim held the rifle,
‘cause I was still just a bit too young
and my mom trusted him.
I did too.

But the explosions into cans were magical
to a little girl like me-
I loved how such a powerful weapon created such a gentle little
clink
against the cans full of holes
set up for a makeshift camping shooting range.
The tortoiseshell-wooded rifle had dazzled me a distance
when I used to watch everyone else;
I loved the swirling patterns, and
when shot, they all seemed to jump backwards as one,
dancing back and forth.
Now it lay right beneath my eyes for the first time,
so I could look through to the targets a ways away.
The trigger was cool against my finger,
and reminded me of how dangerous guns were,
especially to a someone like me,
who’d never handled them before,
even if my buddy Jim were right there,
holding it with me.

Soon I lost interest, due more to an awe
and a slight taste of fear
metallicy just like that brainless trigger,
more than passing attention spans
and so I simply sat next to all ‘the guys’,
listening to the songs of rifles’ booms
and the following tin-can pings.
And despite the fear
curled up in my stomach,
jumping with each echoing shot,
I couldn’t help in my exuberance
but jump up and whoop
whenever someone made it to the abandoned bunker tins
way down the hill.



I know this need works; it's a stream-of-consciousness thingy about a memory. I'm not nearly objective enough to edit it though. Suggestions?



Thanks for reading!

Persephoneia wrote:BOOM.
Ping.
First time I’d shot a gun.
I’d only put my eye up to it,
and gently pulled the trigger,
aim ever so slightly to the left.
I promised myself I’d do better next time.
Jim held the rifle,
‘cause I was still just a bit too young
and my mom trusted him.
I did too.

it had very decent meter, and even though it was stream of conciousness, it was thoughtful, edited and readable,. now, i would have loved this poem if you kept this kind of tight meter throughout but you were very inconsisntent. your basics are good, you just need to work on finishing it

Happy review day! LPR, here to review. Though, admittedly, I'm horrible at reviewing poetry! But I shall try my best!
So my favorite line most of all was this:

BOOM.
Ping.
First time I’d shot a gun.
I’d only put my eye up to it,
and gently pulled the trigger,
aim ever so slightly to the left.
I promised myself I’d do better next time.
Jim held the rifle,
‘cause I was still just a bit too young
and my mom trusted him.
I did too.

It brought back the faint memories of when my father took me out in the woods to teach me how to shoot.
It was a bit vaigue, in my opinion. I wish it had a bit more imagery. But overall I liked this poem, true it does need some work. But I'm not the greatest at poetry, so I don't know how to start.

Keep writing!
~LPR

Fahrvergnügen.

Once again I find myself in awe at your work I tend to feel intimidated whenever I come to review something of yours because I know I won't be able to find very much, if anything, to critique on, as is the case here.

I like the scale of the poem. When you first mentioned guns I was expecting something tragic to happen. Instead, the person in the poem felt herself moved a lot just by holding the gun, and I love the way you've portrayed that emotional reaction from something so simple.

Another great work, keep it up