Left with Goodbye

by PetalPickingPoet

Published December 31, 2008

I was shaken by your innocence-
The petals pooling around your ankles
As you played roulette
With a simple drooping daisy.

Thorn bushes catch your dress.
Blackberries catch your eyes.
Licking your lips appreciatively,
You recall the doorstep I can't forget.

Reluctantly, you race to me,
Reigning the reeds and the wind.
Retying you shoelace, I drag you along.
Removed, I traipse to your door.

I was shaken by my ignorance,
(Of circumstances far from home
Of how to let a child go
Into nightmares beyond my truths.)

Drunkenly, they chastised you
For choking on the pungent smoke.
So silently I watched you sink
Into bruises and stagnant sin.

Floundering, faltering, I fidgeted
Postponing reality for seconds or years.
Finally failing, my words slipped away,
And the one that was left was “Goodbye”

Comments & reviews · 2
PetalPickingPoet commented Comment · Jan 1, 2009

Thanks so much!
I meant to add punctuation before I posted. (That's always the last thing I do to a poem.) It must have slipped my mind. Fixed now.
Thanks again! =]

User avatar
Emerson
Review
Emerson wrote a review Review · Jan 1, 2009

I adore this poem. Your imagery and diction are spot on.

I also dislike this poem for several reasons. First of all, you have no punctuation, and that murders this. It is most certainly a poem better carried with punctuation. You have some typos here and there that can easily be caught with a read through, also.

One of the larger reasons I disliked it was because it is vague in the most important places. Here, for example:

You remember what I can’t forget
What can't the speaker forget? Sure, I could take a guess, but by this point in the poem I have nothing to go off of. Reading it again, I still have no idea. Try to hint at this a bit more, so that the line actually holds some significance.

Otherwise, I adore your alliterations, and the ending is wonderful. Best of luck!



I have hated words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right.
— Markus Zusak, The Book Thief