Young Writers Society

The spidery fingers from his piano playing days
hold the brush with a grace; the paint wipes itself
on the grainy wood,
his hand only guiding
yellow paint of summer days and bumble bees
thick and bright, glossing the dirty underneath.

I want to go in and shake him by the shoulders
and reassure him that I know he can do
much more than paint mouldy fences,
tell him that I remember the past,
that I remember him and so should he.

Instead I only stand in the sun
peering into the dim barn,
a beam of light from the crack
in the roof focuses
on his faded overalls
fraying and worn with paint splattered about.
I remember with a sad sigh,
the crisp white collar,
the black tux,
the gelled back hair,
and the clean shaved jaw
dimpled and happy.
But those thick brows are the same,
burdened by concentration.

With the warm sun on my back
and the quietness of the meadow,
I recall the echo of a loud cheer
as the last piano note cleared the air.
All I think of on my way back to the kitchen
are his slender fingers
sprightly dancing on white keys
during his piano playing days.

Hey I'll be your reviewer for today!

I really liked this, I could picture it clearly, and since I have a friend just like the man you described in this poem, it kinda made me think about it more. You showed that he played piano and now he is like an artist correct? I loved how you gave the reader both pictures of him, one in faded overalls and more...humble looking and the other proud and handsome. You tied in the piano and the painting very well and I loved how you ended it with this stanza:

With the warm sun on my back
and the quietness of the meadow,
I recall the echo of a loud cheer
as the last piano note cleared the air.
All I think of on my way back to the kitchen
are his slender fingers
sprightly dancing on white keys
during his piano playing days.

I thought that was really a great line especially:

I recall the echo of a loud cheer
as the last piano note cleared the air.

Great job! I loved it!

~Fireflight

mizz-iceberg wrote:The spidery fingers from his piano playing days <- Nice opening line.
hold the brush with a grace, the paint wipes itself Two things wrong with this. 1. "With a grace" is an incomplete sentence. Either add something that describes the grace--which is how you've set it up--or remove "a". 2. This is something called a comma splice, where instead of making two separate sentences, you connect them with a comma, when you really shouldn't. Either separate the sentences, or do something like "with a grace while the paint wipes itself." Or something similar.
on the grainy wood,
his hand only guiding
yellow paint of summer days and bumble bees
thick and bright, glossing the dirty underneath. <- I really like both of these lines. They are good descriptions, and have a good flow.

I want to go in and shake him by the shoulders
and reassure him that I know he can do
much more than paint mouldy fences, Take out the "u".
tell him that I remember the past,
that I remember him and so shall he. This is improper use of the word. This is like saying "so does he". Change the "shall" to "should".

Instead I only stand in the sun,
peering into the dim barn,
a beam of light from the crack
in the roof focuses
on his faded overalls
fraying and worn with paint splattered about.
I remember with a sad sigh,
the crisp white collar
and the black tux
and the gelled back hair
and the clean shaved jaw,
dimpled and happy.
But those thick brows are the same,
burdened by concentration. <- I like this line.

With the warm sun on my back
and the quietness of the meadow,
I recall the echo of a loud cheer
as the last piano note cleared the air. <- I also like these.
All I think of on my way back to the kitchen
are his slender fingers
sprightly dancing on white keys When I first read this I was thinking "Is this even a word?" Now I see that it is, but I would consider changing it for the fact that it might be slightly confusing as of what you mean.
during his piano playing days.

I really like this. I can imagine perfectly what's happening, from the old man in the barn painting a fence, to the MC peering in and feeling like the old man isn't living to his full potential, but in the end chickening out and simply reminiscing. (I know, I just described your poem horridly. Luckily, your poem is enough to speak for itself.)

Anyways, this had a nice flow, nice descriptions, and nice realistic-ness. Good job.

loveness, ultraviolet <3

I like the story of this poem and the first stanza is good. It opens the poem nicely with an image that's described good yet is also sad. In the second stanza, I think "shall" would sound better as "will".

I remember with a sad sigh,
the crisp white collar
and the black tux
and the gelled back hair
and the clean shaved jaw
dimpled and happy.

I assume it's the wife who's remembering happier times. It seems like there are too many "and"s here, so maybe add some commas.

I recall the echo of a loud cheer
as the last piano note cleared the air.
All I think of on my way back to the kitchen
are his slender fingers
sprightly dancing on white keys
during his piano playing days.

I like how you repeated the thoughts of the narrator in the beginning that included the title.
I think this poem is nice and well written. It certainly tells a story well.
Good work!