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by Jasperbiscuitt

The prison-like windows are covered

in a film of fog that gently whips the surface of the glass

and leaves behind a dripping residue. 

The collection of lashes result in a narrow river,

wide enough for a fairy to bathe,

flowing down the pane.

The door cries with every rush of wind 

and harsh gasp that mother nature makes.

She is disappointed in us.

The room looks grim and cold, 

despite the running warmth from the heaters. 

I join mother nature's cold shoulder 

and leave the door closed behind me.

She chains me with the heavy linger,

so I sit on the swings.

I defy gravity and exit her grip

with every pump of my legs.

It's raining.

It's pouring.

Mother is mourning.

But I make my own rules,

and I am not the only one who feels this way.

A girl sits adjacent to me.

Silently, she pumps.

We face opposite directions

like we are spying on mother.

The rain pulls my hair and grips my face

and she switches me with the wind. 

But we pump.

And we push. 

And we swing in silence.

We make our own rules.

Is this a review?



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235 Reviews

Points: 6841
Reviews: 235

Tue Feb 07, 2023 10:23 pm
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4revgreen wrote a review...

Hey there! Green here for a review of your great poem!

First, I had two interpretations of this poem myself, so do let me know which was right, if any! I think that this poem's richness and complexity are actually enhanced by the possibility of multiple interpretations. On the one hand, it could be interpreted as a contemplation on the relationship between mother nature and humanity. The fog-covered "prison-like windows" represent the barriers that humans have built between themselves and the natural world, and the "narrow river" of drips represents the residue of human impact on the environment. The door crying with each gust of wind and the room appearing "grim and cold" indicate that nature is dissatisfied with humanity's actions. On the other hand, the poem could be interpreted as a reflection on a mother's relationship with her children. The "prison-like windows" could represent the mother's constraints and limitations, while the "narrow river" of drips represents the residue of her influence on her children. The door crying with each gust of wind may represent the mother's dissatisfaction with her children, while the room appearing "grim and cold" despite the warmth of the heaters suggests a lack of nurturing and support. Or perhaps it is meant to show both in one very good metaphorical analysis! You are clever with words.

The speaker's defiance of gravity on the swings, as well as their assertion of independence from nature (or the mother), is, however, a powerful statement of agency and autonomy. The presence of another person swinging silently alongside the speaker reinforces this message, creating a sense of solidarity and shared struggle.

The poem's structure is effective in conveying its message, with vivid imagery and repetition of key words and phrases creating a sense of unity and coherence. The overall tone is contemplative and introspective, but also contains a sense of defiance and empowerment.

Regardless of interpretation, the poem's strong imagery and structure, combined with its thought-provoking message, elevate it to the status of a standout work of poetry that invites multiple perspectives and encourages further reflection.

Jasperbiscuitt says...

I appreciate it! Right on

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Points: 21
Reviews: 26

Fri Feb 03, 2023 3:24 am
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Dipro wrote a review...

It seems as if the children feels trapped, haunted by the ever- present threat of their mother.And if it indeed so,it is well - done. I will suggest a bit more refining of your style.Perhaps bring in more metaphors and Imageries.People love those. Favourite line undoubtedly -
'The rain pulls my hair and grips my face

and she switches me with the wind.

But we pump.

And we push"

The whole idea of the poem seems a bit vague and could have been better presented

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9 Reviews

Points: 51
Reviews: 9

Wed Feb 01, 2023 9:15 pm
Jasperbiscuitt says...

No stanzas, sorry folks!

When we are children we seldom think of the future. This innocence leaves us free to enjoy ourselves as few adults can. The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.
— Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind