Published November 3, 2005
He was here,
She was there,
Sitting together
In a chair.
Not speaking,
Or looking.
But acknowledging both,
The two of them could be so close.
All the eyes were staring.
Thinking much the same.
But they could not see it.
They could not name.
They feelings between them,
They were there.
But who would tell them?
Who would care?
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141,746 Literary Works • 675,670 Reviews
The descriptions and underwrought emotion are too much. This has all been said before in about the same words. "Sitting together / in a chair" is enough to make any poet or reader stop reading immediately. The rest doesn't get much better. If you're going to write about love, it's going to have to be much fresher: either dramatically improved imagery and language or a metaphor that masks this.
Also, I don't really care what this poem's about, specifically. And the language isn't interesting enough to make me want to find out.
I liked this. The rhyming is really well done and not distracting, and it has a kind of quietness I really like. Or something. The last two lines are nicely cynical.
By me, tis' truly wonderful.
The feeling between the two have been beautifully put.
The inconsequence of their feelings have been ultra-beautifully put.
Because they don't know how each other feel, and are both inconvenient. I wrote three short poems about the same thing, and I hope this one is my best. I might sent in the others, but I don't know.
Honestly, the opening (ie the first two lines) reminded me of Avril's Sk8ter Boi, and I got a little hung up on that *curses her obsessive mind*
But I liked the first stanza a lot. The second and third stanzas confused me a little, and I'm not sure I get why the needed someone else to tell them what was going on between them.