Young Writers Society

Morning

My eyes fold shut as they gaze down the black abysmal mug of Monday coffee,
black by brand of day and bitter expectation. The sharp smell lulls the quintessential
sounds of my father’s footsteps, business shoes, by the hollow serious sound -
the kind of footsteps that take him away for quite a while.

My mother doesn’t look at me, and that’s all fair, because I do not release my hands from
my coffee still; I hate coffee. But I suppose that life is long, and hours drone on without a little
acerbic motivation. My sister’s glower warns that any positive aspirations
before the toll of eight are uncalled for, so I breathe the dark, inky day.
I believe you once reminded me that these days did not require misery. Huh.

So I close my eyes, ignoring the sounds of my sister’s irritation and the day she’s already cursed
to utter despondency, thinking little of my mother’s icy stare that I can feel
upon my father’s feet, watching as though not to trust the steps he takes. My dad,
well he can only say that he’ll “be back in a little while,” and so, I sit in the corner of the room,
staring into my mug of full-brimmed bitter drink, and let you remind me that I do not have to suffer
what they‘ve put upon themselves.

First off... I ABSOLUTLEY LOVED THIS!

"[thinking little of my mother’s icy stare that I can feel upon my father’s feet, watching as though not to trust the steps he takes. My dad, well he can only say that he’ll “be back in a little while,”]
-- Really great line perhaps my favorite. It almost seems as if you have been through this. Is this a diary entry or a excerpt from a story you plan on writing because it has the caliber to be either one. Your main character seems kind of depressed though and i cant help but think it's because of whats going on around her.

Im thinking we should calaborate a story or just share some ideas because you seem like you deffinately know how to get a story going. i Loved it though keep up the good work im going to follow you and see if i can check out more of your work because its amazing!

Hey there, Weaver!

Literally. After I finished reading this, I said aloud, “Good, this is good. But flow issues.”

So that will pretty much sum up my review, if you don’t want to read further. First off, I have to applaud you for your lack of fear of longer lines. There are a few of my pieces that would eventually end up as this—winding down into natural line breaks themselves—but I think you’ve done it well. It adds to the ambient despondency within the piece itself, and you’ve brought it out well through careful tugs, though there are a few bubbling places that need to be quieted.

So, starting from the beginning, you have a description in line one that just rambles a bit too much on the tongue for me. “The black abysmal mug of Monday coffee,” while aptly descriptive, takes a bit too long to mentally add up. And I think your issue is ‘black abysmal’ put together—and the continual use of ‘black’ in the next line doesn’t quite help. So the repetition of ‘black’ and the general overdramatic thrust of ‘abysmal’ don’t quite do you justice. Play around with it until you’re pleased.

I’m pretty much in love with your alliteration throughout the poem; even if it was unintentional, you pull it off very naturally, and it makes me a tad bit jealous. With the appositive, “business shoes,” I would probably use a dash instead of commas just to keep things from stagnating in the flow of words. And the haunting, sad last line of stanza one is beautiful in the way it takes us to other settings and miseries. Well done.

Stanza two brings in more family members while keeping the absentness of your narrator’s voice in-tact…until we talk about her sister. Or her sister’s glower, rather. It’s a bit too prosaic for the bunch you have going here. You can keep the part about the sister, but change up “warns that any positive aspirations before the toll of eight are uncalled for” because it is a mess. Again, the last line is lovely. Not sure how I feel about the “Huh”, though.

Stanza three is a bit disappointing because it just takes the morning you’ve built in the first two stanzas, throws it in reverse, and hauls back in a middle-school style conclusion of thought. And while this is very natural, I suppose I’d want something more. The line about the sister is probably what kills me again. There’s just a bit too much annoyance there for the apathy you’re going for. I loooove that the mother doesn’t trust dad’s steps. I think the sentence after that can be rephrased for better flow, and I don’t particularly like the throwback to coffee. We’ve already gotten that, but it’s not broken into any further, so it just stagnates as a repeating image. Almost abused.

But the final sentiment is very nice. Apathy before annoyance. Always good. Keep up the good work, and let me know if you have any questions.

-Lumi