Young Writers Society

Hi @Snoink I'm back with a second review on yet another wonderful poem of yours. So let's dive right into this shell we.

Wow I don't come across poetry now day's that is this long, I miss seeing this sort of thing. I'm loving it. You did an amazing job of describing these hands, you went into such depth that my own fingers started tingling and the images that came into my head were booming with every line of this poem. I also found that the way you laid the hole poem out was really easy to read. So all in all I'm again fully satisfied with what I've red.

And now fog wheels and dives into the valley where she
lies. It is green and poppies and mustard dot the hillsides
where she used to roam. Above her is a bouquet of
plastic flowers, roses just placed on her anniversary.
Below her is her husband.

And sometimes I wonder, deep in warm earth,
whether her quiet fingers are still icy cold.

I like this poem, but found it difficult to read. Both because it's written in small text, and because it's all crammed together. Definitely space it out nicely. The feeling is evident, and with some tweaking here and there, a bit of literary refinement to avoid unneeded phrases and to perfect the ones that matter most, I think you will have something to be very proud of indeed. It is powerful and it is consuming, and you've captured the essence of the character well.

You can feel the characters sadness through the words, but you can also feel her joy in her memories. Theres a sense in your words of something ending, as well as something else beginning.
It's really good you did a nice job PM me if you write anything more.
~ Bri

I really like this poem. I was going to comment earlier, but I had to go to school. There isn't anything that I don't like about it really.

Keep Writing

-Flower-

Snoink, your greatest ally while revising this will be condensation. There are so many unnecessary words, as a reader it was pretty hard on me. It'll be a lot stronger if you cut away the excess.

for example when you say "mountain ridges all over her hands." You should just say "mountain ridges." We've established that you are describing her hands already.

I love the internal rhyme in the first line of the penultimate stanza: I wish there were more of that.

I'd also change the ending, you should always end on the strongest stanza, but it was just... mehhh.

So: condensation.

Hi, Snoink! ^_^

Something that I think needs to be done in this poem is a revisitation of the first lines.

I can't stop my fingers from trembling.
Hold them straight, flat, in front of my face
and watch them dance out of rhythm.

curl her cold hands into my own
and press it deep within my heart

When the doctors talked of
taking her feet, I blinked and when she lay
strapped, her blood rushing through machines,
I hid away.

To me, she was my future and I could see my reflection
in her rosy cheeks and wrinkled face full of laughter.
Even our names matched, and when she called my name,
her eyes turned tender and she would squeeze my hand
softly. For that short second, I could feel her fingers
warming up in mine...

Hey Snoink!

This was nice, and sad too. You did a real good job of conveying the emotion that this piece centered around.

However, I will say that I think it felt too much like a story divided into stanzas. What I mean by that is that you don't have a set rhythm, and the lines drag on for a bit too long and you go into overwhelming detail. Take out the stanzas, and with a little editing, you've got a basic prose story.

If you that you'll be a lot freer to expand into the detail that this poem wants to go for.

-Elinor