*Note* Wrote this a long time ago.
Time was slow, the days dragged on,
life felt like a big chess game, and I was just a pawn.
I moved without moving, and spoke without sound,
I checked to make sure I was breathing, that the world was round.
I sat by my window and watched the world rotate,
waiting, waiting, for my future and fate.
The sparrow didn't see me, it fed it's young,
oh, to be as free as the sparrow, to use my lungs.
I was silent, I lived as they would want,
not a protest or word, I could feel their taunts.
I hoped maybe one day I would fly as free,
as free as the sparrow, until I was no longer seen.
So I sat by my window, dreaming and still,
the sparrow still did not see or acknowledge me, as I willed.
Did no one see or hear me, as I live?
A word or gesture, to be seen, I would easily give.
But no one cared, no one could see
the little girl by her window, so full of melancholy.
She cried and cried great big tears,
and finally the sparrow saw, and it feared.
So I sat by my window, and the years passed,
the sparrow came back year after year, until the last.
The last spring the sparrow did not come, as it so faithfully had,
I was aged and lonely, and unbearably sad.
I took to my bed, and grew very ill,
but still no one cared, and I was silent, still.
The end neared, and some one at last came,
the old woman that I was whispered, "Do you know my name?"
The stranger replied no, they did not know,
I was desolate and saddened; I had sunken so low.
No one knew my name but everyone had one, and I wanted one as they did,
so I whispered to the stranger, "They didn't name me as a kid."
The stranger smiled, and leaning in,
gave me a name, as precious as kin.
I happily smiled back, and closed my old eyes,
and stopped breathing and was still, as still as the dead lies.
The stranger kissed my old woman's head,
and left, leaving me content in my bed.
And the name that stranger gave me was true,
and did what no one would ever do.
Do you want to know the precious name? The name that made me smile?
The name that helped me, without the sparrow, to cope?
Well, I'll tell you the name, my name I had.
It was so precious...it was Hope.
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I loved those lines. what a nice way to end the beautiful poem. i felt every emotion and saw everything.
You've reminded me why I love poetry!
I loved the fact that you didn't put capital letters at the beginning of your lines! It made the poem flow a lot easier and well done for breaking the mould!
The rhyming was at times a little forced but you made up for that with the story behind the poem. However I agree about using separate stanzas, even if it is just the last four lines that would make the poem seem less blockish.
Keep writing!
~SishBee~
x
First of all, superdy duper congrats on the rhyming, because it seems like all anyone will write these days is freeform, so it's good you jumped out of the box. (Guys, there's nothing wrong with freeform.)
The story was excellent, and though it had a touch of the emo in the middle, you fixed it up pretty by the end and made it so that it wasn't cheezy. Nay, 'twas excellent!
I liked a lot of it, but the whole massive block of text dealy can be really threatening, but the title was so cool I had to read it! So stanzas is a fun little to-do I would definitely suggest.
'Hope'? TOTALLY cute! <3
~Nightfall
I liked it.Intersting and each line makes you want to read more and know more.Although I do agree,the rhyming does seem a little forced and stanzas would make is easier to organize as well as read.The last few lines almost don't seem to fit in because of the rhyming but other then that it was good.
Keep up the good work =]
This is okay, I guess. I agree that the rhyming seems forced, and I think you should drop it - especially as you just change your rhyming scheme for the last four lines.
Btw it's spelt future.
Keep writing,
Bkwrm
Yay, I liked it (I thought the rhyming was fine btw), it was a good story, and it makes me think. I want to know more about this old lady, it just leaves me asking so many questions-which is good. I love it. Just one tiny little bitty thing:
In this line:
waiting, waiting, for my furture and fate.
And this is simply a suggestion, drop one of the 'waiting's and put a 'my' in front of fate.
I sat by my window and watched the world rotate,
waiting, for my furture and my fate.
The sparrow didn't see me, it fed it's young,
Idk, I think it would be fine either way, very nicely done though.
~Rory Evelyn Legend
This was an interesting story, however the rhyming didn't help you at all. In fact, it hurt you. It was forced and just seemed awkward. If you're interesting in re-working this, I would keep the basic idea but forget about the rhyme. Also, stanzas help a lot to organize your poem and break it up so the reader isn't confronted with a huge block.

Keep writing!
Time was slow, the days dragged on,
life felt like a big chess game, and I was just a pawn.
I moved without moving, and spoke without sound,
I checked to make sure I was breathing, that the world was round.
I sat by my window and watched the world rotate,
waiting, waiting, for my furture and fate.
The sparrow didn't see me, it fed it's young,
oh, to be as free as the sparrow, to use my lungs.
I was silent, I lived as they would want,
not a protest or word, I could feel their taunts.
I hoped maybe one day I would fly as free,
as free as the sparrow, until I was no longer seen.
So I sat by my window, dreaming and still,
the sparrow still did not see or acknowledge me, as I willed. - rid of "acknowledge" or "seen" you only need one -
Did no one see or hear me, as I live? - rid of comma
A word or gesture, to be seen, I would easily give. - rid of both commas
But no one cared, no one could see
the little girl by her window, so full of melancholy.
She cried and cried great big tears,
and finally the sparrow saw, and it feared.
So I sat by my window, and the years passed,
the sparrow came back year after year, until the last.
The last spring the sparrow did not come, as it so faithfully had,
I was aged and lonely, and unbearably sad.
I took to my bed, and grew very ill,
but still no one cared, and I was silent, still.
The end neared, and some one at last came,
the old woman that I was whispered, "Do you know my name?"
The stranger replied no, they did not know,
I was desolate and saddened; I had sunken so low.
No one knew my name but everyone had one, and I wanted one as they did,
so I whispered to the stranger, "They didn't name me as a kid."
The stranger smiled, and leaning in,
gave me a name, as precious as kin.
I happily smiled back, and closed my old eyes,
and stopped breathing and was still, as still as the dead lies.
The stranger kissed my old woman's head,
and left, leaving me content in my bed.
And the name that stranger gave me was true,
and did what no one would ever do.
Do you want to know the precious name? The name that made me smile?
The name that helped me, without the sparrow, to cope?
Well, I'll tell you the name, my name I had.
It was so precious...it was Hope.
AWWWWWWWWWW.
I loved this poem! It was so sweet!
And it rhymed! Double bonus for you!
That was so sweet, the name..
Preicous as kin.. Hope. AW!
KEEP WRITING! FOR THE GOOD OF HUMANITY!