If only a picture could freeze the past.

by watergirlwriter3

Published November 14, 2006

Maybe life wasn't meant to be appreciated by the living
only by the dead
because those whose hearts are still beating
never think with their heads
I wish I could have saved you,
steal you from your misery,
and restore what was.
Love is such a thing that we underestimate
that we never really feel it
and put more effort into hate
Now I have forever to tell you that
I don't know how we got that way
It seems like we were playing in the back yard
just yesterday.
I know you hated needles,
but now their your best friend
All there's left of me is a picture with you
when we were young and naive
and thought life would never end
So when you look at that picture of us
"back in the day"
think of me,
Go outside and play.

Comments & reviews · 3
User avatar
sabradan
Review
sabradan wrote a review Review · Nov 15, 2006

well, first of all, I echo Incan. Welcome to the YWS. I liked this, it reminds me a lot of some of my stuff (or at least, some of the emotions I try to capture).
Thats all I can really say right now, I'll give it a longer and more proper critique later, on my own computer (I'm at school right now)

User avatar
Incandescence
Review
Incandescence wrote a review Review · Nov 14, 2006

watergirlwriter3--


Welcome to the YWS; there seem to be a lot of other "girlwriter"s or "writergirl"s about the site. Maybe you can all start a family! That would be neat.

As for this, I felt like it was poetry by hammer and anvil--discordant (due to the rhyme-scheme) and heavy handed (due to your sermonizing) -- in short, full of "clanking".

The narrative seems to be telling the reader that the dead appreciate life more than the living, and then a sudden shift to an unknown "you" who thinks needles are his/her "best friend"? It is like you concatenated two barely similar poems in hopes you'd have something worth posting.

The result is far from the desired effect of being moving or thought-provoking.

This isn't working in either concept or execution.


Best,
Brad



Remember, a stranger once told you that the breeze here is something worth writing poems about.
— Shinji Moon