There’s a kid around the corner
who likes to play with lighters.
Every night, I’d see him out by the curb,
flicking a lighter on and watching the flame burn.
I told him to stop,
that one day if he wasn’t careful,
he’d burn some bridges.
And bridges are very,
very
hard to build back up.
He laughed
and said he didn’t care.
“The bridges I burn,”
he muttered,
“were never meant for crossing.”
It grew quiet after that,
and the silence lay so thickly between us
it was palpable.
I bid the boy goodnight,
trekking home as his words replayed
over
and over
in my mind.
A pyromaniac sat in the silent city streets,
just a few houses down from mine.
Flicking on lighters;
playing with matches.
As I passed him the next day,
I told him that if he wasn’t careful,
the fire would scorch his lungs
and he would no longer
be able
to breathe.
“My lungs,”
he said,
“were never meant for
the breath of words.”
Again dumbfounded,
I bid the cynical boy goodnight
and retreated back to my house.
That night I thought about what he had said.
I couldn’t fathom why he loved the fire as much as he did,
or why he was so pessimistic.
I fell asleep,
dreaming of a flame so large
it swallowed everything it touched.
And no matter how hard I tried,
it could not be quenched.
I awoke to the sound of a huge crash.
Running to the window,
I threw the curtains aside
staring as a house,
just a little ways from mine,
crashed and inevitably burned.
Sirens blared down the streets,
red lights flashing like crazy.
An officer knocked on my door, and I answered.
Before questioning me,
he passed me a blurred sticky note
covered in an ashy smoke
with the words:
My bridges were not built to be crossed,
nor my lungs for the breath of words.
My life, however, was built out of spite
and I was not made for this world.
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139,870 Literary Works • 672,780 Reviews
Wow. Dark much? I loved it.
Unfortunately, I do have one bad thing to say. I think a different style would have worked better: prose, or a different form of poetry. It worked okay this way, but there's always room for improvement.
I liked the content though, and I like the implied story behind it. Good work!
Hey Tigerlily,
As a piece that touches upon the subject of suicide, I like the narrator's point of view in trying to empathize with the unanswered questions floating up in the air, perhaps relatable even if we haven't experienced it directly, as all of us ask those questions and try to comprehend ourselves in them.
They're never answered unfortunately even as we approach the end of the piece with that looming sense of foreboding in anticipation for what is coming. In a way, the inaction could be a factor for what leads to this outcome. The narrator never challenged, confronted or directly questioned the pyromaniac, and I think there could be a lesson there, that in these moments we should act, though it is a lesson that is pulled underneath the lines whether intentional or not, and not exactly stated. I feel strongly about this interpretation in that it is echoed in the title as well, we don't normally think of a fiery night as a silent one, but the silent night gives it a ghostly quality, almost like a cold, unfeeling or abandoned town feeding perhaps our pyromaniac's motivation.
The fact this isn't stated doesn't make the poem any more or less enjoyable (though I probably would be annoyed if too many things are stated outright, so I tend to enjoy subtext more) but I just thought I'd mention what I got out of it.
Improvement wise, there were a few flow issues that contrasted against some of the more lyrical lines, especially in that spot in the middle where your lines stretch all the way across to the other end of the page, it's like too many words fighting for attention and pushing one another out of the way (or at least appears so in mobile, I haven't looked at this on the computer). Plus, didn't like "pessimistic" there either. I think the pyromaniac's words and actions cut deeper than that, and pessimistic seems to trivialize it.
Hope this helps
~ as always Audy
Thank you I will most definitely work on it!
It's been too long since I've seen narrative poetry like this!
I really like narrative poetry so tell me if you ever post any more (I'm new to the site by the way)
That isn't to say that I don't have my quarrels with this poem however. The thing about a narrative poem is that if one word is chosen wrongly it can change the entire mood of the poem, and any strange wording can have a profound effect on the interpretation.
I will just start with some nitpick stuff:
Line 4: I'm don't think flames can really be described as burning
The saying "breath of words" I also don't think is correct.
6th line up from the bottom: I don't think a note can be covered in smoke.
The message of this poem is an interesting one, the entire thing seems to be a strange metaphor for suicide, ending in literal suicide. I understand this may be a cry for help, I sincerely hope not though. If you ever need to talk I think you can message me on this website(?)
I would suggest adding more imagery and avoiding stereotypical word parings like blaring sirens and whatnot. The imagery while present isn't particularly vivid or strong, and poetic devices would be nice. This is almost more a short story.
I'm not entirely sure what the reader is meant to take away from it, what message that they could apply, in other words most stories have a moral, what is this story's moral? People who say suicidal things will in fact be suicidal? Other than that I like the poem/story.
Oh! I guessed it right, the atmosphere you created from the very beginning did suggest to me that it must be suicide. The way you ended was quite nice. Here's for review:
As this is a free verse I suggest you to use more poetic devices. The story was weaved quite nicely but in poetry the reader wanted to read more of beauty and amazement of flow and rhythm, which was a bit missing here. The imagery was great. I loved the following lines:
My bridges were not built to be crossed,
nor my lungs for the breath of words.
My life, however, was built out of spite
and I was not made for this world.
Because many wouldn't expect this to come...
Keep writing!
I will res more of your works, I hope you'll go through mine too.
Thanks for the review! I will definitely check out some of your works.