Young Writers Society

Home » Literary works » Poetry » Dramatic


untitled

by faith


children die,
c'est la vie
and dust blows across an empty yard.
the black dog chews on a child-sized
soccer ball, but no
remonstrating voice echoes out across the silence.

its one of those haunting scenes that
can only come in the jagged air of an
early spring
with
forgotten sandbox toys, and a doll
lying facedown by the apple trees.
the golden curls are too familiar- they
bought the doll for her and called it her twin,
such as she never went anywhere without it. but
it will never be picked up and placed in a toybox
like a child's grave.

as the apples of seasons and seasons pile
over it,
the house is dark and cigarette smoke
curls around the edges until it makes an
almost visible aura around it,
that people may avert their eyes as they walk past,
murmuring about tragedies and stone angels and
small graves.

the soft air of impending summer gives way to
night, and fireflies,
and the television blares painfully,
to mask the sounds
of neighbor children's laughter.




Connie, 1996-2003


Note: You are not logged in, but you can still leave a comment or review. Before it shows up, a moderator will need to approve your comment (this is only a safeguard against spambots). Leave your email if you would like to be notified when your message is approved.







Is this a review?


  

Comments



User avatar
30 Reviews


Points: 890
Reviews: 30

Donate
Fri May 13, 2005 3:20 pm
Trinity says...



i loved it
amazing poem wow




User avatar
418 Reviews


Points: 5890
Reviews: 418

Donate
Fri May 13, 2005 1:05 am
electricbluemonkey wrote a review...



Wow... :shock:

Just...

Wow. No, not really "wow" more like..."WO-O-O-OW".

That is just amazing. I can't imagine anyone who can write like this. I just can't get over. Its just...wow.

(Quoting Bobo) I have 2 words for you: AWE SOME.




User avatar
665 Reviews


Points: 6165
Reviews: 665

Donate
Thu Jan 06, 2005 4:57 am
Chevy says...



amazing how i have been writing since i could hold a pencil and can't touch this.




User avatar
85 Reviews


Points: 5890
Reviews: 85

Donate
Thu Jan 06, 2005 4:54 am
View Likes
faith says...



yes, it is




User avatar
1258 Reviews


Points: 6090
Reviews: 1258

Donate
Thu Jan 06, 2005 3:43 am
Sam wrote a review...



Yes, it is haunting...with the forgotten toys and and the laughter of the neighboring children or whatever. I loved it...is it based on a true story? I feel bad for asking this because it's so emotional it had to be...:D




User avatar
321 Reviews


Points: 890
Reviews: 321

Donate
Tue Jan 04, 2005 8:50 am
View Likes
Liz says...



I love this as much as the first time I read it on TYWC. I can still feel the tragic emotion. Great work.




User avatar
701 Reviews


Points: 10087
Reviews: 701

Donate
Tue Jan 04, 2005 1:57 am
bubblewrapped wrote a review...



Gripping is right. I almost feel too afraid to make suggestions here, but there are a couple of things that I felt need to be adjusted...

children die,
c'est la vie
and dust blows across an empty yard.
the black dog chews on a child-sized
soccer ball, but no
remonstrating voice echoes out across the silence.


I love this stanza. Its haunting.

its one of those haunting scenes that
can only come in the jagged air of an
early spring
with
forgotten sandbox toys, and a doll
lying facedown by the apple trees.


This is my favourite bit. Its an incredible use of imagery - I especially like the word selection of 'jagged air of an/early spring'. Chilling.

the golden curls are too familiar- they
bought the doll for her and called it her twin,
such as she never went anywhere without it. but
it will never be picked up and placed in a toybox
like a child's grave.


This bit is alright. I kind of feel 'like a child's grave' needs to be elaborated on though - it fits with the rhythm but something about it doesnt fit with the last line. But that could just be me.

as the apples of seasons and seasons pile
over it,
the house is dark and cigarette smoke
curls around the edges until it makes an
almost visible aura around it,


That last line there needs to be changed. I know what image you're going for and its great but this line doesnt fit. I'm not sure why. I think its 'aura'. Maybe you could try changing that word for something longer.

that people may avert their eyes as they walk past,
murmuring about tragedies and stone angels and
small graves.


This links back to 'a childs grave' of the previous stanza but I kinda feel it needs to be changed; the repetition of grave is jarring (although thats not necessarily a bad thing in this sort of poem).

the soft air of impending summer gives way to
night, and fireflies,
and the television blares painfully,
to mask the sounds
of neighbor children's laughter.


I think 'neighbor' should be 'neighboring'. Other than that, I love this last bit.

Definitely a heartfelt and beautiful poem. It has an air of tragedy without coming right out and talking about it. A wonderful piece.




User avatar
483 Reviews


Points: 4449
Reviews: 483

Donate
Mon Jan 03, 2005 10:41 pm
Meshugenah says...



wow. that's... i'm speechless. gripping, yes.




User avatar
915 Reviews


Points: 890
Reviews: 915

Donate
Mon Jan 03, 2005 9:37 pm
Incandescence says...



I remember reading this at TYWC, and it gripped me then. It's gripped me now.





Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.
— Neil Gaiman