Happy Colors; Sad Soul.

Here on my vanity are perfumes unsprayed,
lipsticks dried and crumbled like dirt.
A mirror so tinted with years of dust,
so spotted with bright colorful kisses:

A rosy red Monday,
a precious pink Tuesday,
a baby blue Wednesday,
a lovely lavender Thursday,
and a gorgeous green Friday.
Such happy colors for such a sad soul.

Here on my vanity are lotions untouched,
bottled up in containers of different sizes,
different shapes.
Nail polish - both glittered and non glittered.

My jewelry box sings a melody so soothing to the ear.
The ballerina twirls clockwise in the center,
dancing with her usual smile.
I am envious. Why can’t I be that happy?

Mom and dad are causing a fuss downstairs as always,
their voices booming down the hall and vibrating against the wall.
Grandmama lays in the guestroom, ill and in helpless pain.
Yet my brother is downstairs playing his video games.

My drawers are packed with yellow sheets of papers,
papers that remind me that I am failing Algebra II.,
papers that were supposed to be signed by my parents by yesterday,
papers that have now been turned into detention slips.

I glance to the left, for a flash of silver catches my eye.
It’s that dreaded heart locket my boyfriend gave to me,
his way of saying ‘goodbye’.
I shouldn’t have told him; I should have avoided him completely.

Suddenly I hear a slap, skin-to-skin, come from down the hall,
a quiet thump, a silent pause, a desperate plea.
The front door opens, as it has done three times this week,
and the pleas become louder; the door slams shut.

Millenniums seem to go by in the sudden abrupt silence,
the clock ticks at a steady rhythm on my wall.
Footsteps approach my room, so very slow and hesitant.
He’s come to tell me what I already know; he’s hit her again.

The doorknob rattles and my tears prick the corners of my eyes;
I have to tell both of my parents eventually, the same thing I told my ex.
He steps in and moves his lips to speak, but I can’t keep this secret anymore.
Everything in my life is a wreck, and it will not get any better.

I stand.
Eyes hard,
Posture straight,
Chin high; I break,
thinking to myself, ‘Please don’t run away,’.

The tears fall, “Daddy, I’m pregnant.”

Aww, this one's very sad. It's well written, your spelling and grammar are accurate and the format compliments your subect. Basically I liked it though your imagery could have been stronger. Don't worry about that though, the poem was good.

Very sad but very good too. I liked the description of the vanity up to the "Nail polish - both glittered and non glittered." part. I don't know, but it didn't seem to fit with the rest of the description.

My jewelry box sings a melody so soothing to the ear.
The ballerina twirls clockwise in the center,
dancing with her usual smile.
I am envious. Why can’t I be that happy?

I think this would be better if you left out the question in the last line. "I am envious." delivers more of a punch to end the stanza.

Also, I think "milleniums" should be "millennia". Milleniums is correct, but millenia would just flow better.

The ending was very good, and overall I really liked it. Keep it up!

I agree with all of the above. You need a little more description, but I enjoyed!! It's sad, and happy all in one...sorta. lol I look forward to reading more of your poetry! You're really good at it!

With luck,
Viccy

The beginning of this was very list-like, so it didn't work.

And, then it turned into a story in verse form. I highly suggest you turn this into a story: it has nothing poetic to it to make it a poem, other than the verses. (Not to say it is bad.) It would make a good story [if done right] but as a poem, it doesn't "work". You have two much in one thing, and like I said, it lists things. Lists never work in poetry.

With poetry, you don't want to talk about your "story", you want to express it, and make your reader feel the same. I certainly think this would work a lot better as a story.

The plot would be an interesting one.

I agree...i think that i would enjoy this much better as a story. not that it wasn't good as a poem, but i think that....oh who really cares what i think?...just do whatever! i liked it!
...but a story would be nice...*hinthint*

---Lora

I think the first stanza spends too much time setting up an image, and not enough time progressing the poem. I vote you mix the first and third stanza together to create one super-stanza of imagery. I don't mean mash them together, but take the best elements of each to make something vivid and tight.

Kind of likewise, I think the second stanza might be less tiresome to read (though I like the wording of it) if it was spread throughout the rest of the poem.

Structure seems to go out the door by the fifth stanza. That's fine, as long as you're consistant. Try tying the first part about the dresser to the other events occuring in the house. Or maybe refer more to the items on the dresser as sort of an escape/ something else for the character to concentrate on in between listening what's happening in the rest of the house.

I would think hard about what Claud said, and see how it would turn out as a story. I think you could do rather well.