z

Young Writers Society


12+ Violence

I Am Fairly Sure I Am A Reincarnation Of Guy Fawkes' Hidden Fear of Fire

by Rook


Maybe this summer, I won't be afraid of fire.

My hand won't shake with the match,
rubbing all the flames off an entire box.
One match will suffice, and it will light
with more than a cough of smoke.
I won't feel weak-kneed just holding the box of matches.
I won't imagine the house going up in flames,
the vinyl chair melting into a black pool on the charring carpet,
the CD stack melting together,
my book pages eaten by tongues of fire, gentle as moths.

Maybe this summer, fireworks won't explode in my chest
on the fourth of July, leaving my eyes dazzled, and my heart in a frenzy,
doing backflips and tangling up my arteries so they twist and choke.
Maybe it won't feel like a sudden circulatory system reboot;
I won't imagine EMTs standing over me with defibrillation paddles.
I won't imagine someone standing right behind me,
pistol in hand, as I look down and the brand-new hole in my chest
before my system really does shut down,
first from shock,
second for the obvious.

Maybe this summer I won't imagine barrels of rifles sticking out of the passenger-side window of every single car that drives toward me, head-on as I walk on the technically correct side of the street, close enough to them to brush the chrome on its bumper if I wanted to lose a finger, close enough for point blank range, close enough to not have enough time to run, never enough time, why am I walking outside alone, what do I do, but it's too late because it's ripping though my chest again, this time front to back, and it feels nothing like fireworks.

Maybe this summer I won't confuse the color of the red lights that blink
on wind turbines miles away
with the warm summer rain that patters on my roof
while I lay sweating on my bed.


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
1081 Reviews


Points: 220
Reviews: 1081

Donate
Sun Apr 30, 2017 2:07 am
Virgil wrote a review...



This is Nikayla here dropping in for a review!

So, somebody has to review this. You can see that everyone else was shaking in their boots to review this piece because it's just SO GOOD, and I have to admit that I am too. Like, wowie. Anyway, let's move aside from my gushing and jump into why I actually am gushing about this piece so much.

Maybe this summer, I won't be afraid of fire.

My hand won't shake with the match,
rubbing all the flames off an entire box.
One match will suffice, and it will light
with more than a cough of smoke.
I won't feel weak-kneed just holding the box of matches.
I won't imagine the house going up in flames,
the vinyl chair melting into a black pool on the charring carpet,
the CD stack melting together,
my book pages eaten by tongues of fire, gentle as moths.


I love the imagery in this first stanza, and I have almost no complaints regarding it. Not any majors ones, anyway. I like the first line that kicks off the piece and introduces us to the first stanza, with a nice structure and flow to it. I do believe that the first line of the first stanza would be more beneficial if you put 'maybe' behind it for the repetition as well as the continuity that this is only a maybe and not definite. Though, it could be your intention that this first stanza is a more definite one in thought. The last four or so lines and their flow are a little weak, I do have to say. Rewording is something that could easily fix that problem for you, since it's the sixth and seventh lines that have a hard time connecting with each other.

Maybe this summer, fireworks won't explode in my chest
on the fourth of July, leaving my eyes dazzled, and my heart in a frenzy,
doing backflips and tangling up my arteries so they twist and choke.
Maybe it won't feel like a sudden circulatory system reboot;
I won't imagine EMTs standing over me with defibrillation paddles.
I won't imagine someone standing right behind me,
pistol in hand, as I look down and the brand-new hole in my chest
before my system really does shut down,
first from shock,
second for the obvious.


This stanza is a lot more technical than the last stanza, though it works because it's what is required in a way. I don't have much to comment on this stanza since it's quite amazing, though the flow of the last five lines here are a little clunky regarding the flow. Or to be more specific, awkward. In the line before it, you end it where it begins, though in this next line, it drags on for quite some time and I'd like to see a breather somewhere in-between. In a way, I find this to be unique in its own right from the first stanza in its imagery, and its content, though it's tied together by the structure, the repetition, and the overarching theme so well that it works.

Maybe this summer I won't imagine barrels of rifles sticking out of the passenger-side window of every single car that drives toward me, head-on as I walk on the technically correct side of the street, close enough to them to brush the chrome on its bumper if I wanted to lose a finger, close enough for point blank range, close enough to not have enough time to run, never enough time, why am I walking outside alone, what do I do, but it's too late because it's ripping though my chest again, this time front to back, and it feels nothing like fireworks.


The shift into being a prose poem is something that still feels a little unnatural, but overall I think it fits the piece to go this way. The anxiety that spreads throughout this stanza affects me and actually causes me an actual bit of it myself--that's how impactful and powerful this stanza is. The 'and it feels nothing like fireworks' is the cherry on top to all of this. While the flow is a little hard to manage here, and that's because the thoughts in this stanza are so rushed, it works.

Maybe this summer I won't confuse the color of the red lights that blink
on wind turbines miles away
with the warm summer rain that patters on my roof
while I lay sweating on my bed.


These ending lines are powerful. The repetition and overarching theme ties the poem together with a bow on top, and I have to say that it's one of my overall favorites from you because of that. If you have any questions, feel free to ask! I hope I helped and have a great day.

Image




User avatar
25 Reviews


Points: 0
Reviews: 25

Donate
Thu Apr 06, 2017 7:27 pm
IrisNight says...



Wow, Fortis this is amazing, great work!




User avatar
13 Reviews


Points: 170
Reviews: 13

Donate
Tue Apr 04, 2017 5:12 am
CClesta says...



Oh my gosh this is amazing




User avatar
494 Reviews


Points: 0
Reviews: 494

Donate
Mon Apr 03, 2017 8:26 pm
Holysocks wrote a review...



Hey Fort! I thought I should give you a review, since I think it's been awhile and I don't feel like reviewing novels right now!

First of all, I was dancing in place to a lovely song when I started reading this, and by the end of the second line all dancing ceased. You had my FULL attention. Like it really kind of... hit me? I don't know, it just got me in the feels somehow. I guess because it does seem to be something that a lot of people deal with- anxiety is what I got out of this poem, like I mean anxiety seems to be the theme.

When I was a kid I used to dread coming home because I was afraid of a house fire. My sister and I lived on the second floor of the house, and we had doors that lead out onto the roof of the rest of the house, but there was no stairs or ladders or anything for us to climb down in case of a fire. I remember people saying that in the case of a fire, you wouldn't care- you'd just jump! ...But tell that to a nine year old? XD So not only was I afraid of a house fire, but I was afraid of what I'd have to do if I was in a house fire. So my point is I found this all very easy to relate too! ^_^ I think most people can probably relate to the anxiety theme, as most people have some form at one time or another in their life.

rubbing all the flames off an entire box.


I had to reread this line a few times, and I still don't really understand what is being said here. Why rubbing flames off a box? Maybe this is something that I'm just not knowledgeable on? I feel like it may have been an image that didn't quite work out the way you wanted it to, and in this case you may want to try reworking it to be a little clearer, or it might not even be needed- I think it flows alright from the line before it to the line after it-- but I could be completely wrong! That's just my thoughts of course. c:

with more than a cough of smoke.


I loved this image. I don't know why but it really gave an almost friendly, cute, persona to the flames. Like when you see a puppy cough or something. Like I imagined almost a baby dragon coughing smoke. Maybe I'm just weird. But I liked this anyway, and even without my odd images of it, I thought it was quite beautiful.

second for the obvious.


So I know it was meaning that the narrator died of burning alive, but this line still kinda to me feel like it could be a little more colourful? I like "second for" but I feel like it just end kinda abrupt and doesn't really add much. Maybe by using maybe a more interesting word besides "obvious" or somehow saying the same thing a little differently, so it's a bit almost longer or something.

One more thing I wanted to mention is that I was a little... confused is the wrong word, but I guess after reading the first stanza I thought the whole poem was going to be about fire and the fear of fire and overcoming in perhaps. So when it kinda switched to other anxieties I was a little confused, and it didn't really feel right to me. Maybe if you kinda mixed the anxieties up a bit more, rather than starting with one and moving to another. Maybe if somehow you alternated the anxieties?

I have to go now, so if I explained that poorly feel free to ask me to clarify! I really enjoyed reading this! I need to read more of your stuff, I think! ^_^ Keep it up!

-Holy





Patience is the strength of the weak, impatience is the weakness of the strong.
— Immanuel Kant, Philosopher