164

by thisismichelled

Published January 17, 2012

Today my father died.
Gone, he was here yesterday.
Left me, my family.
Not a note or goodbye.

I walked down the street
Counted each car on every one of the trains that passed.
One hundred sixty four
I didn't spend even that many days with you.

My father died today, but only in my eyes.
He left for the other woman last night,
And breathes with her this morning.

Comments & reviews · 3
User avatar
Kale
Review
Kale wrote a review Review · May 25, 2012

Today my father died.
Gone, he was here yesterday.
Left me, my family.
Not a note or goodbye.

There are several issues with this stanza. The most noticeable of these is how every line ends in a period. This breaks the flow of ideas in this stanza, making them disjointed and difficult to follow. Now, while you could use the disjointedness to reinforce a feeling of brokenness, it's not really done well or completely in this stanza. On the one hand, you used too many periods, but looking at it another way, on the other hand, you didn't use enough.

If you were going for a feeling of disjointedness, a bit more careful placement of your periods would have helped, as would simplifying the structures of your phrases. For instance, one possibility:

My father died today.
Gone. He was here yesterday.
Left. Me. My family.
No note or goodbye.

Your subject is a powerfully emotive one, but you need to help your readers feel the emotions as they read the piece. You can accomplish this by supporting the emotions you want to convey with your word choice, sentence structure, and line/stanza breaks. How your readers read a line affects how they feel about the rest of the stanza, and by extension, the rest of the poem. Right now, if you were to simplify the language of this poem, make it reflect the feelings of abandonment and anger, this piece would be a very emotional and honest one.

This poem has a lot of potential, and it is so very close to being realized. It would be a shame if it never was.

User avatar
Still Comment
Still commented Comment · Jan 17, 2012

This feels so honest.



I was promis'd on a time, To have a reason for my rhyme: From that time unto this season, I receiv'd nor rhyme nor reason.
— Edmund Spenser