untitled as of right now

by Writer27

Published March 26, 2008

I walk towards your grave,
trying my hardest to be brave.

I feel a tear slide down my face,
a hole rests in my heart
that never will be replaced.

I look at the ground,
steady and sound.

Looking at the inscription,
I lean closer, only to read
words of meaningless description.

Husband and father,
me being his daughter.

Eight years old.
Too young, to be out here,
facing this cold.

The last words spoken never with regret,
I love you Daddy never forget.


I am looking for critism, please don't be too harsh this is my first poem.

Comments & reviews · 6
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Writer27
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Writer27 commented Comment · Mar 26, 2008

Thank you, I do agree with the critisms, however I don't think that I will change this poem, I wrote it for myself. I will probably do another poem including feelings etc. later.
Thank you again for the helpful tips!!!!

blacktiger3915 wrote a review Review · Mar 26, 2008

Welcome to young writers' society! The poem was quite good. But I have to agree with gryphonfledgling though. I can't believe that an eight year old girl could say this. Anyway, I look forward to reading more of your works. :D

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aestar101
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aestar101 wrote a review Review · Mar 26, 2008

Great poem!!! I like the depth and rythmn. There is nothing else to say about this poem. To me its flawless!!! :) :) :)

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Maki-Chan
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Maki-Chan commented Comment · Mar 26, 2008

^_^ I love gaara! This poem serves him well. Nice job ^_^ :D

GryphonFledgling wrote a review Review · Mar 26, 2008

This was quite sad. However, I really didn't feel that the character was eight years old. The vocabulary for one thing, (inscription/description) seemed a little old for a child that young.

However, by way of poetry, I did like the style. I liked the alternating stanzas with the different rhyme scheme and you pulled the rhyme off excellently. Very nice stuff.

I agree a bit with Snoink on the adding some descriptions. Right now, we feel sorry for the girl, but we really don't know anything about her or her father, so our pity isn't all it can be. Maybe she remembers the time when her father picked her up above his head and pretended to drop her before catching her again, but she was never afraid because she knew that he was going to catch her. Or, alternatively, that she feels guilty that she ever doubted that he would catch her as she fell through the air. Maybe you could have the memory of an argument or something in which she said that she hated him (little kid thing) and that leads into her telling him that she loves him, that he should never forget that.

It's your poem, so you don't have to listen to me if you don't want to. You have a really nice piece of work here.

Welcome to YWS! I hope that you post more poetry. You have talent!

~GryphonFledgling

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Snoink
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Snoink wrote a review Review · Mar 26, 2008

Hello and welcome to YWS! :D

This may sound silly, but I think this would really be cool if it were completely soppy. Right now, it's slightly detached and while it's okay, it's not super-splendididillidoo-spifftastic, if you know what I mean. So here are some ideas to make it super-splendididillidoo-spifftastic! :D

Even when we're eight, we notice things from our parents and there are little quirks that everybody has that are sometimes annoying, sometimes hilarious, and so on. Those quirks sometimes stick with us even more than the actual big memories of our loved ones. For example, I don't really remember my grandfather too much because he died when I was young and I only had a chance to meet him every two weeks in the summer, since he lived far away. But I remember him sneaking sweets to us and eating sweets himself, and just his mischievous look as he stole jelly belly beans was priceless.

Of course, that was somebody I only met for a couple weeks a year and I really never knew. My dad is a completely different story. I wrote something for him for Christmas, and, if you want, you can read it here. Some of the stuff, you can laugh at, and some of the stuff is private jokes between him and me. But you can see there is a private interchange? If you don't want to read my work (I wouldn't blame you!) you can check out Areida's For Papa for her own take.

If you dwell on these quirks and say how much you miss that person, I think it would be an excellent idea.

Also, I remember when my grandfather was buried, I had never seen a burial before, and just before his coffin was lowered to the ground, I burst away because it was just too much. At that moment, I realized I would never see him again, and after I got my stomach out of my throat, I cried and cried. If you had some sort of dramatic action, not necessarily of this nature, but something, it may also give more soppiness to the poem.

Good luck! :D



#longlivebigbrother
— alliyah