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140,089 Literary Works • 672,997 Reviews
this is so gorgeous and atmospheric <3
<33
Hi Roxanne! I was really intrigued by your poem right away because I find that shorter poems are often the most powerful
To begin, I love how you start your poem by using some opposites like 'come and go' and stating this desire of really missing something that has left you. I really loved how descriptive you were, describing the footprints on the tile. Just like things that leave us forever, the feeling seems to remain forever as well. This reminds me of this video I saw where someone talks about how missing someone can be a gift because it shows how much we love them, and when we miss them, we can feel close to them again.
I am loving the descriptions still! Overall, I get this feeling of yearning for something lost, trying to accept what you don't have and live without it, but also this feeling of emptiness and not being fully satisfied.
To me, it feels like we are talking about something that is just out of reach. Maybe one day you will reach it and finally complete what you have set off to do, or maybe someday you will finally find what makes you feel whole. Overall, I really loved this poem, and I also love the aesthetic and organization. I can tell that you out a lot of work into this, and it paid off too
Your friend,
Ellie
Hai :3
This is such a delicate and haunting poem!! I love the way it moves between the transient and the permanent, the coming and going versus the staying. There’s such a quiet sadness here, but it’s wrapped in these soft, dreamy, visceral images that make it feel so deeply personal. That's amazing!! I'm such a big fan of that kind of imagery because it's always so meaningful to the poet, and that's so neat to realize. I’m obsessed with how this feels like a moment suspended in time!!
This is such a simple yet profound opening!! The phrasing makes it feel like a universal truth, like something we all instinctively know but never quite accept. I can definitely understand that perspective!! There’s already this ache of finality from the first line, but the rhythm is soft. It feels inevitable. The past is so specific yet unreachable, but it still feels relatable ~~ Like, it's not too specific to the point where no one else but you can fully get it.
!!!! LOVE THIS
This is such an incredibly strong, tactile image!! Footprints are these traces of presence, of something having been there, and they're on milk-colored tiles...That contrast is stunning!! The softness of milk vs. the damp, fading footprints give this a feeling of something delicate and fleeting, yet unwilling to disappear completely. Then, the fruit!! That’s such an aching image!! A fruit should be bursting with life, but it's sad and hollow here. There’s something so poetic about this contradiction, and it makes the poem feel even more melancholic!!
^^^ Like I said, I adore the pomegranate metaphor, but I wonder if you could tie that back in somewhere? It feels a little sudden to me. I know that it's hard to fully integrate all of the images you want into a short poem, but I'd love to see more about the pomegranate specifically!! There's a lot of sky imagery, a lot of lingering loneliness, some yearning; how could you tie the fruit into that? If the arms are empty, what was in them before? Food for thought!!
I love how this ends!! The w4st winds taking the leaves (a perfect callback to autumn earlier in the poem!!) gives this natural sense of departure, like things are meant to be swept away. The wind isn’t just carrying things away too -> it’s breathing, whispering, like even the things that disappear leave an imprint. This feels so surreal and cinematic!! It's as if the past and memories are always just slightly out of reach. That's especially shown since the poem ends on "yonder" ~~ Like, that word carries so much meaning, and I love how it's used here!!
Ugh, what a poem!! This is so beautiful, delicate, and full of these dreamy images that will stick with me for a while. Amazing work!! ^_^
- Payton
Spoiler
Some things come and go, leave and never return
Missed and shall be thought of, like the autumn of before.
Moments of mind that it hoards, wet grey footprints on milk-coloured tiles,
They stay and never go. Rich like the golden brown soil,
Seedless pomegranates. Those empty arms
Under skies, wet from paint, muted greys.
When West winds sweep leaves away, they will sigh, just there
Yonder.