z

Young Writers Society



Her Daughter's Heartbreak.

by silverSUNLIGHTx


I haven’t seen her
In days.
I see her shadow.
I see her eyes,
Empty,
Broken.
But she is gone.
Pro tem.

I’ve seen his picture
Torn
In her wastebasket.

I see her as a baby,
Tiny and helpless,
In my memories.

I want to hold her.
I want her to sob
Into my shoulder.
Like when she was young
And the pavement
Cast red patterns
Across her knees.

Instead she cries
Into her pillow,
Her diary.
I won’t feel her tears
Soak through my shirt.
Not anymore.

But I know she’ll
Pull through.
She’ll make sense
Of his senseless excuse.

She’s strong.
She’s always been
My little soldier girl.


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Tue Jun 23, 2009 5:56 pm
KJ wrote a review...



I haven’t seen her

In days.

I see her shadow.

I see her eyes,

Empty,

Broken.

But she is gone.

Pro tem.


It may be just me - I don't know that much about poetry, I admit - but this feels too jerky to me. There's no pattern, like AABB or ABAB, you know? Then again, it's probably free form and I look like an idiot, but I think the flow (forgive the cliche) would be better if there were such a pattern. Oh, and I also don't like the use of pro tem. It ruins the elegance you have here, being sucha modern-feeling word. Does any of this make sense? :roll:



I’ve seen his picture

Torn

In her wastebasket.


Love this.



I see her as a baby,

Tiny and helpless,

In my memories.


Come on; you've already proven to have excellent vocab. Use something more than "tiny or helpless". Those words are so... common. Stun us with your imagery!



I want to hold her.

I want her to sob

Into my shoulder.

Like when she was young

And the pavement

Cast red patterns

Across her knees.


I don't understand what you're trying to say in the last three stanzas. How does the pavement - black tar - cast red patterns? And across her knees? So she's sitting by a red road that felects weird pattterns? And also, where did the punctuation go? You've got commas and periods all over in the last few sections. Where did they go here?


Instead she cries

Into her pillow,

Her diary.

I won’t feel her tears

Soak through my shirt.

Not anymore.


The part "Her diary" comes out of nowhere, and doesn't seem to fit in anywhere. And you're not explaining why the narrarator won't feel her tears etc. etc. anymore. Are they angry with each other? The girl isn't dead, right?


But I know she’ll

Pull through.

She’ll make sense

Of his senseless excuse.


While I like the last two stanzas, the first two dissatisfy me. The narrarator is all worried throughout the poem, then suddenly she's confident everything will be all right?


She’s strong.

She’s always been

My little soldier girl.


As endings go, it's fine. Not as amazing or original as it could be though. I would toy with this.


Overall, I enjoyed it. It's a tad cliche, but you make up for that with the imagery.




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Sun Jun 21, 2009 6:18 pm
chasingcolts21 wrote a review...



Yay! What a wonderful little piece! xD

This poem was real imaginative and creative as well. :D
It contained insight, dramatic irony, parallel structure, repetition, and many more stylistic devices... :D

One big problem though, I noticed is the punctuation errors. You should go back over it and add some periods, commas, and an occasional semi-colon or exclamation point.

As both the others state, the fourth stanza was epic! <3

Excellent piece, feel free to PM me with questions, help, review, etc...
-Ryan




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Sat Jun 20, 2009 11:12 pm
Miss Ching wrote a review...



I really like the perspective from which this poem is written in. It's a real eye opener to what our parents might feel as we grow out of their reach. I also especially liked the fourth stanza. I thought it was very imaginative and insightful. Your poem was very well thought out and I loved it! Excellent :)




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Mon Jun 15, 2009 4:59 pm
kirstybree says...



I really liked this especially the fourth stanza. Its a story everyone knows but told through a perspective teenagers easily forget. Good job :)





That's how we should measure our lives. Not in distance traveled, or time passed, or worlds conquered, but in moments... and the rush of joy—of grace—that exists within them.
— Megatron (Lost Light, by Roberts, Lawrence, Lafuente)