shooting stars

by mayaura

Published April 20, 2024

E - Everyone

In coal

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I always assumed that as time went on so did the emotions that seem to always stick to your heart. Those tiny little plagues that have not been paying rent. The last time I picked up my phone to call anyone it was for you. I’m unsure what phones are used for anymore. My cheeks don't hurt as much as they used to. You gave me smiles and reasons to wake up every day. I was always grateful for the way you pushed me on the swings soaring higher and higher to reach the stars. I didn't feel it when you stopped pushing I only felt it when I fell off. I can't seem to look up anymore cause somewhere in all the seconds that have passed the moon came out but no stars have yet to shoot me in the head. Where have all the wishes to end my misery wound up?

Comments & reviews · 1
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Plume
Review
Plume wrote a review Review · Jun 9, 2024

Hey there! Plume here, with a review!

I love reading prose poems and I thought this one was an excellent example. To me, it seems to be about the loss of a relationship with someone in the speaker’s life they really cared about. I think the mourning attitude was captured very well in all the imagery.

One thing I liked a lot was the form. I think you were very consistent with the patterns in your sentences. The focus on the subject “I” was so poignant. I also loved all the phrases that connoted the past and things the way used to be; they set a really regretful, nostalgic tone to the whole piece that really helped carry the message through.

One thing I might consider re-examining is the flow of the poem. I feel like there were some parts that felt a bit choppy to me, like the second sentence. The whole poem also teetered on the edge of stream-of-consciousness but didn’t (to me) commit fully to it, making it flow a bit weirdly as well. I also think ending on a question can leave your poem feeling a bit inconclusive, which I think works for the context of this poem, but I feel like I almost craved more from the last line.

Specifics

I can't seem to look up anymore cause somewhere in all the seconds that have passed the moon came out but no stars have yet to shoot me in the head.


I think this part was my favorite line in the piece; I just loved the play on shooting stars and how run-on it was. I feel like it was so quintessentially prose poetry and was a perfect near-finale to the poem.

Overall: nice work with this one! I hope to read more of your work soon! Until next time!



What is a poet? An unhappy person who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and cry pass through them, it sounds like lovely music.
— Søren Kierkegaard, Philosopher & Theologian