The rain hits the ground
and slithers down the driveway.
Underneath and in between the uneven pieces of stone
through the gravel
like it is a snake parting many paths.
The rain sweeps
through the driveway
like a broom.
My feet hit rock bottom
at the bottom of the driveway where
mineral deposits gather like it is a dust pan.
I stand over the sewer drain
trusting that the bolts will not break
and that the bars can hold my weight.
The smell of petrichor rises from the ground
and evaporates into the air.
It is the smell of the rain and the earth
when they interlock fingers.
Gravity propels rainfall downward
liquid bullets shoot through the top of my head.
They drill through my skull down into my collarbone
until they stop midway in marrow.
My bones shift in my body
like they are continental plates that pull and push.
My hands are numb from the cold.
The ink of the pen fades out
as if to say I have nothing to say.
The ink of my pen fades in,
words bold and blotted.
My thoughts are liquid on the page
while droplets of rain erode the edges of my notebook.
Leaf coffins sit at the end of the road
to decompose beside trash cans and recycling bins.
The mixed colors of yellow, orange, and red,
that I will try to hide in.
Skeleton trees stripped of their marrow with
branch hands stretching out to the sky
callused and bare.
Cars on the road mow down the rain,
sputtering it out onto the sidewalk
like it is grass.
I'll treat it like a phase
because the rain will pass,
even if I don't want it to.
And I will write of the rain;
abandon all the ambitions and expectations,
for the dull grey skies.
Not every poem is a power ballad,
some are words carried gently across the wind like dandelions
or the pollen that travels from place to place,
by way of hitchhiking off faded t-shirts.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
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125,008 Literary Works • 672,827 Reviews
Hai! I have lots of little notes for you. Overall I like what I read!
In general (and this is more a personal thing than not), I don't like similes. In your first stanza, for instance, I think there's more "oomph" behind it if you get rid of the "like" comparison, and just call it as you're seeing it: a snake parting many paths.
Second stanza, I don't like the repetition of "bottom." It slows you down, and it's needless, I think? Call it the end of the driveway, foot, anything other than bottom! Unless you change the first one ^^
Third stanza, I'm struggling with in general. I think it's partially tied up in the use of "petrichor," because I like the images, but I'm lost somewhere in the rhythm and the fact that I like your third and fourth lines so much more.
Fourth, I dunno? I think it's just a little too much? That said, I like your last two lines in that stanza.
Fifth! Uh, I absolutely love the imagery in your first few lines, but I hate that "bins" rhymes with "in." Plus, your rhythm feels off there. If it's intentional, then well done! If not... look at it, please! It's definitely tied to the use of "recycling bins," but that's as far as I can get you, I think. Plus, I really like how "leaf coffins" juxtaposes with "skeleton trees."
Last stanza... I like your last few lines. A lot. I'm not so sure about the rest of the stanza, however. I think the why ties back to the fourth stanza, because both sections are almost too self-aware - it pulls me out of what you've been building with the rest of the poem.
Thanks for the read! It's especially apropos on this blustery Sunday I'm having.
Thank you for the review!
ngl I put off reviewing this till review day so sorry for not leaving feedback sooner.
This is deep and rich and so, so good so I'm gonna delve into the critical aspects first before gushing a little.
Just a few notes;
Not digging the redundancy of 'bottom'. Though repetition is super great especially in poetry, this makes it lag a little bit.
This has an almost list-like quality that takes away from the natural rhythm of your poem. I might even suggest scraping the first line completely.
This line doesn't particularly mesh with the stanza it comes from, plus its playing on a cliche that the rest of your poem tries really hard not to. I may suggest scraping it.
The sixth stanza feels a bit overwrought, especially after the powerhouse that is stanza five. I like the thinking and the way you're connecting ideas, however.
The first half of the last stanza feels unnecessary, like you're trying to justify what you've written, or make sure the reader is absolutely certain what you've written is exactly what it is. Like a conclusive paragraph at the end of an essay. But this isn't an essay and that little bit there isn't necessary (unless you feel its necessary to lead into those last few lines however).
The second half of the last stanza is pure gold.
There is so much good, solid content in this poem. Metaphors on metaphors on metaphors that really dig at something, and I mean there were a good number of times I stopped and took a breath cause what you were getting at hit in a way that ached in a whole new way. Poetry should ache like this. You have that in you and in this.
Your fifth stanza was by far my favourite of the bunch. There's something about the death-like quality of fall that always seems to get overturned by its warm, vivid colours. This feels somehow more rich, more real.
This really is quality work, friend.
DW
Thank you for the review, it was very helpful!
the 2nd stanza is sOOooO good / what
Thank you!
I feel like leaving a short review, but I really want to do this justice. Let's do both.
First stanza, right off the bat, snake splitting its heads into different paths: fantastic and marvelous work that I'll idealize for poems to come. There are some redundancies here (and ho boy are there redundancies in this poem for sure) but all-in-all it's such a wonderful stanza of literature that it's a publishable introduction to whatever follows inside.
Don't define your words. Don't define your words. Don't define your words unless you are absolutely intentionally pushing for something on the sly. If your reader doesn't know what petrichor is, they will find out from the descriptors. It needs not be defined. Stomp stomp stomp stomp.
By stanza four you're at a place in your repetition where you can get away with starting sentences with conjunctions for flowsake. Stanza 5 (Leaf coffins) does nothing for me? And while I get that not every poem needs to be a power ballad, it just really has no purpose and takes up space. I think the skeleton trees and marrow could be salvaged, but the coffins and hiding among the leaves is just needless.
And your last four lines just won the piece for me. You still have work to do, but you crossed a line with this, and I'm quite happy with it. Edit for flow and dynamic phrasing and you have a winner.
Ty