Fingerpaint

by Nightshade

Published May 26, 2012

In Favorite Poetry

We catch sunlight as if we're children,
pressing it to our chests
like it's too important to hold
with just fingers.
 
And when we cry,
we pretend we are gods
throwing lightning and rain
in a myth.
 
Dad says time goes on
and we have to change too.
 
I think time sits very still
like a painting, 
and we get to choose where
we want to look.
 
My favorite painting
has a man watching a woman
chew an apple.
I'm thankful he chose 
to look at her
and not the snake at his feet
or the lightning above.

Comments & reviews · 4
User avatar
Karzkin
Review
Karzkin wrote a review Review · May 28, 2012

Sadbox, I'm here.

I would have to disagree with Mesh, I think it all connects beautifully. She calls it tenuous, I would call it subtle. Especially the link of 'fingerpaint', 'children', and 'painting'. Clever. As Mesh pointed out, the development of the lightning/god image is great. In fact, the last stanza totally blew me away. I've been thinking a lot lately about time and standing still and movement in relation to time and stuff like that, so I really like where you're going with this.

K.

User avatar
JesusLvr18
Review
JesusLvr18 wrote a review Review · May 27, 2012

Beautiful poem! As Meshugenah says, I like the first stanza the best! You really capture the 'Be A Kid Forever' feel which more people need. My least favorite stanza was 'And when we cry', because I've never known a child who does that. Maybe I'm just talking to the wrong children. you have a really wonderful poem on your hands! I might even to the lengths of saying it's magical! It really reminds use to be more like children and don't rush in life.

Thanks you for posting this work of art,

~~Heidi~~

User avatar
Meshugenah
Review
Meshugenah wrote a review Review · May 26, 2012

So, overall, I really like what you're doing with imagery here.

First stanza is lovely. I'm not quite sold on your wording, but each time i reread it, I like it more than I did initially.

Second stanza, the first three lines I really like. I do think you need something after "rain," but I don't think "in a myth" does it. It's too abstract and not specific, whereas the rest of the poem you have much more concrete images. I also think "myth" is implied by the previous three lines, so the redundancy just takes away from what you could do with this stanza, be it stopping it after "rain" or expanding it to give an idea of what is causing the narrator to want to metaphorically throw lightning in the first place - at unruly peasants, maybe? :P A demi-god refusing to bend to the gods' will? Simply because?

I'm also having a bit of trouble connecting the first two stanzas to the rest of the poem, as well as with the last stanza. All are really pretty, but don't entirely feel connected.

I feel like your first two stanzas pair nicely, and then the third and fourth sort of pair together, and then the last is connected with the paint image/metaphor as well as the lightning, but I'm not sure it's a strong enough link for me to connect them all together. Part of the trouble I'm having is that individually, I really like each stanza, but I'm not sure how to mesh them together in my mind. "Change" and "time" don't necessarily go together, so the link between them is tenuous at best. And then there's a difference between a narrator being able to choose where to look, and how a painter painted each figure, especially in commentary - the narrator is more dynamic and claiming to choose where to look, where the figure that's painted doesn't carry that same dynamic weight for me.

Maybe it's partially denoting the painting as "favorite," instead of identifying it as one maybe, from the narrator's father's house, or something.

Anyway! I sound like a broken record, now, but lovely images, and individually I really like each stanza; I'm just not sure if they connect enough for me to call them a single poem when put together. Thanks for an intriguing read!

Mesh

User avatar
roxyask
Comment
roxyask commented Comment · May 26, 2012

absolutly beautiful :)



What is a poet? An unhappy person who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and cry pass through them, it sounds like lovely music.
— Søren Kierkegaard, Philosopher & Theologian