Published December 16, 2009
Note: This poem style is called a glosa. It's where you take four previously published lines from music, literature, or prose and write four stanzas that close with the lines. 
-- ‘Cause there’s no comfort in the waiting room
Just nervous pacers bracing for bad news
And then the nurse comes ‘round and everyone lifts their heads
But I’m thinking of what Sarah said
- Death Cab for Cutie --
No windows, trapped
stabbed by the plastic and deafened by the silence.
Underneath the thick wads of antiseptic, I smell
stagnant air and sorrow.
Outdated furniture and a broken television,
there's nothing to hold, nothing to grasp,
nothing to provide me with the hope I need.
‘Cause there’s no comfort in the waiting room.
There never is, never was,
ever since it all began and I held her hand,
fed her the optimism for the impossible.
Breathing without lungs, fear bubbling on my tongue;
I believe with no hope, alone, afraid.
I need her hand, her soft skin on mine,
her voice, her eyes, her everything.
But there's no one here to watch me cry,
no one here but me and her father,
just nervous pacers bracing for bad news.
I've never had to live with no meaning,
never expected a heart to beat
after being shattered into dust.
Never expected to have a heart to break in the first place.
Just a body, a soul, a burning passion for a goal
that I knew I'd never reach.
Just like her; she knew she was beat,
but she fought and she fought,
she never once gave in.
She knew there was two ways of going,
and she took The Hard Way.
I think of all the memories -- they burn my heart
and get caught in my throat, but I hold them close.
And then the nurse comes ‘round and everyone lift their heads.
I know Sarah's gone before the nurse says it,
mouthing her words of apology.
Her father is frozen, stunned
his mouth open in a silent scream.
The memories give me hope,
courage, even
so I place my hand on his shoulder.
He turns to me and whispers, "she was right all along;
she knew from the start she wasn't going to win."
The nurse clears her throat and asks timidly
if we'd like to hear her last words.
I answer for her father; yes, yes we would
and the nurse takes a deep breath.
"Tell my daddy I love him. And tell Oliver
Death's not the winner of this fight just yet.
Love conquers all, so keep your fists up."
I'm no longer lost,
lonely, sure.
But now I know.
I know the memories will sting, like picking open
a scab. But all scabs heal over,
all scars tell a story.
Her father sobs and whimpers something,
sounds like "poetic,"
but I'm thinking of what Sarah said.
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Canary word: Present
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140,698 Literary Works • 673,658 Reviews
About the whole stanza thing;
It's been a while since I last listened to DCFC.
I encountered this too. When you post this, look at the bottom where the tap options is, under the body of your poem and there will be a bunch of formatting options. Yous is on default. Change it to "story" or "none" and stanzas should appear.
As for the poem itself, well, great job. It was fantastic and true to the song, or at least how I remember it.
Anyways, great job. I hope to see more of your poetry around yws forums
Nice talking to you.
Empress
Thanks guys!
I have it in stanzas on my computer, but for some reason YWS didn't want to break it up... :\
Anyways, thanks again!
Samasaurus,
I loved this.
It's not often that I come across a piece of poetry, especially guided ones, and find that I can enjoy it. You wrote this excellently, and there was little -- if any rigidity in the corners as I would have expected.
You had a wonderful flow, in words, but not just in words -- in the pull of emotion that you started off with and gradually increased. You fit the song into this perfectly, and all I can do is raise my thumbs and say good job on that.
I'm not too sure how much I like the usage of "Sarah" here-- I like the personification and identity, but I think that "she's" would have worked better here-- because calling her a name felt like you were filling in an emptiness that should have remained for the emotional side of the poem. Similarly, careful on the narrative here -- frozen or stunned can be eliminated; the nurse's narrated action can be trimmed down a bit -- try to keep narratives to a minimal amount, because they hog spotlight.
I liked this a lot -- do keep writing, and Tres Bon job here.
I like how you chose this form of poetry and i like the beginning.
But you might want to space it out a bit so it's easier to read and follow, mostly so people will understand.
I really love a lot of the imagery that you used in this and just your wording. I think it helped to really move the story along, which is something that, at least to me, a lot of poems in this style don't really do. The only thing in the way of a critique I might have is that maybe breaking this up into stanzas would help make it a little more readable, but that might be me with my short attention span and bad eyes. But all in all, this was a good write and I totally enjoyed reading it!