you sat, adamant in the garden,
sprouting from the ground in your youth.
you sat, anticipating a bird
to perch on a nearby branch
or for an ant to crawl from a mound of soil,
the world on its trifling shoulders.
the soles of your feet
were caked in mud by the time
the storm passed. those clouds
were old news.
the sunshine broke through wispy clouds
with crowbar hands.
you cleansed yourself of the dirt
on the back porch,
pant legs pulled up to your knees.
you hosed yourself off, left to drip
onto the sweltering pavement.
alone, you read a children's book,
spine broken in like old sneakers
and pages worn;
a dog-eared page showing
where you last left off.
a crumbling primrose lay
as your bookmark, flattened by
time. you sat,
waiting for something--
for someone to come by,
but no one did.
instead, you spent hours
learning the calligraphy
of your finger, scrawling words
into the naked earth.
Author's Note: Written a couple of hours before NaPo began! What do you think of the perspective of the poem? Does it work? Is the imagery effective in creating the atmosphere of the poem? All critique is appreciated.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
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Original Text:
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125,007 Literary Works • 672,816 Reviews
Hi, J here for a review.
No critiques needed for this poem, I can't belive only one person reviewed it so far. This poem took my breath away, your perspective totally works for the kind of poem that it is. All the riveting imagery and beautiful word choices. This poem also has what I long for my own to have. Details. The small thins like "dog eared pages" and "worn like sneakers" those comparisions served well in this poem. The way you described the child was just enough, you gave important details yet something was missing and didn't miss it. If that makes any sense at all to you I will give you the biggest internet hug ever.
I give this poem an A+!
Good Job and Keep Writing!!
*gasp* why hasn't anyone given you a review yet, unacceptable.
Seriously though, let's get to it. I think your imagery is honestly riveting and your word choice is superb. I like how the child seemed to come from the garden and the way you described the surrounding rather than telling us "a child emerged from the garden, washed off, read a book, and waited from people who would never come". Why is the child waiting? and fro whom? this is what I would like to know, I can't tell whether to be calm or sad. Your tone is relaxing and beautiful but the thought of a child waiting all alone form something that'll never happen seems as though it should feel tragic. If this is the case, I didn't feel that way. I do admire your attention to detail throughout your poem. Little things like the "dog-eared" pages and the "crowbar hand" and "worn like sneakers" such comparisons sever you well here. As a whole, the poem feels earthy and natural. It's both testament to the childhood playing in the mud and reading silly books while seeming to have a slightly transcendent touch. This child seems to be in tune with the "naked Earth" and for me it was calming. If the waiting was meant to seem more melancholy than that would be my only substantial critique here.