Ring Lost on Road

by ZanyPlebeian

Published March 19, 2006

Ring Lost on Road

I look out
and see it’s not dark yet;
the patched roads
shimmer
in falling drizzle afternoon.
A single piece
of silver falls from my hand
in slow-motion, repeating
in mind’s eye—a ring
I’ve had.

I was born
on that road
and I’ll die there,
too. As the memories
flood my mind,
I can’t even remember
why I came here
in the first place

All I heard
was the rolling
of the waves onto
the cold, white
beach
and a single car horn
whose sound blew
through the alleys.

Comments & reviews · 4
User avatar
xanthan gum
Review
xanthan gum wrote a review Review · Mar 20, 2006

i agree with snoink, as i did not enjoy the second stanza as much as the other two. the first was absolutely beautiful. i love the image of rain on silver. the second one just lacked the pure beauty of the first. it wasn't bad, but it wasn't as striking. usually i'd just offer compliments if any other poet had scibbled this down, but i want you to be your best, zany. basically because your best is...amazing.

User avatar
Snoink
Review
Snoink wrote a review Review · Mar 19, 2006

I like the first stanza a lot. Why? Because you used assonance to your advantage. What is assonance? Basically, using similar vowel sounds. In particular, you used words like "shimmer" and "drizzle" and "silver"... the list goes on. It really works well.

The second stanza, for me anyway, seems to deteriorate the mood. In the first stanza, you set up a soft poem since you used a soft vowel sound, but in the second stanza you undo it and make it harsh. This particularly doesn't seem to fit:

I can’t even remember
why I came here
in the first place


It sounds much too harsh for the overall effect of the poem... or at least my interpretation of the poem anyway.

But no, really. It looks like you'll be a nice addition to YWS. You have a nice style with words. :)

User avatar
LamaLama
Comment
LamaLama commented Comment · Mar 19, 2006

Intriguing. The stylized word flow is nice. I'm a big fan of the second stanza.



Journeys end in lovers' meeting.
— William Shakespeare