The rhyming of twenty-one rhymes in a meaningful and natural manner is to be admired and had an almost dizzying effect on the reader, much like the dizzying content.
The last line is unanticipated, and very poignant. It is sad to think about the life that the headstone represents. I also wonder whether the headstone has an epitaph and if so what type of tribute was paid to the youngster.
The first is that it could start with the third verse. "The cousins" should take the place of "They". The background about the the girls living in neighbouring farms can be left out; in fact that would add some mystery to the last two verses.
The second is that I would prefer this to be a story in prose. (The rhyme scheme can be kept.)
In the first verse you mention your Mum's perfume. Perfume is such a personal item, and by saying you wear it more and more often, you show a close and loving relationship with your Mum.
Once the sharp edges of grief and the numbness wear off, longing and a sense of loneliness, fill that space. You mirror this in your words,
"And the space left by your leaving
continues to grow."
Here, "left and leaving" in one line are effective.
I like the fact that you poem is simple, realistic, and genuine.
It's also scattered with imperfect English, but I reckon a casual bloke like you doesn't care a hoot about that.
Your country has a lot to commend it. It seems quite indifferent to hosting baddies, and its gender equality policy must be welcomed by all 'n sundry sharks.
My children are dying to reach puberty. I'm a baddy and a shark, and completely nuts on top. So I'm completing my application papers.
Your poem about Poker is quaintly streaked with with metaphors which match cards to people. There is good rhythm, and the cadence of the poem is also helped by rhyme in the second half.
I loved the last line, "... her heart is flush tonight"
It is an unusual and clever poem and I enjoyed reading it.
This little story pulled at my heartstrings. Sadly, it rings true, and made me aware how animals have no options when it is decided by man that they must be killed. (I'm thinking about abattoirs, too.)
It's a simple story, well-told.
I particularly like the first five sentences about the animals' eyes - what they could see, and how striking are those of the cat. The subject of "eyes" appears again in "No one would ever see its eyes again...". and the reader clearly understands the horrible meaning.
I also like the part where Lord Mittens tries to make herself desirable. (As a family we always chose our pets according to how desirable they were.)
The ending is unexpected and, except for the awful trauma that Lord Mittens had been subjected to, happy.
From this paragraph I get the sense of the past history holding back opportunities, and thus progress, of black people - perhaps more so of black women. Are there many who bend and break their backs for a man? Is this a cultural requirement within your race? Is it perhaps also a result of being held back?
I like the idea of being the best that one can be, under any circumstances.
If the real you is good and proud I wish you could/would show the world your fine qualities.
Unfortunately I cannot give you a high score, since your English is poor. However, writing.com is here for you to express yourself as you wish, and the number of stars you receive should not stop you from putting writing thoughts and feelings here.
I agree that boundaries are essential whenever there is interaction between people. I also agree that respect is exceedingly important in such interaction.
This is an essay which is well thought out ..
I suggest that the word 'futile' should be exchanged for 'impossible' or something similar.
The following sentence is well expressed: "Racism and name calling, however, are the result of deep seeded prejudice and bigotry: in other words, hate."
Every verse in your poem rings true, and from experience I understand well that various factors and behaviours can break up a relationship.
Perhaps some lessons can be extracted from the last verse:
One is that love has many forms, and in a relationship it is natural that it should change. The partners can be compared to two streams coming together. They flow as one until some obstacle splits them, but then hopefully re-unite and perhaps follow a different path together.
Yes, I understand your concept that love is a shadow. That is why one must work hard to give it form and maintain it.
I believe that a union between two people must be constantly nurtured, with each partner contributing good to the union. Respect for each other, forgiveness, and going the extra mile to be pleasant and helpful can go a long way in maintaining a good relationship.
(There are no guarantees, of course.)
Some of your expressions which ring true include:
"Who blew your mind..."
"She's grown older...
He's grown cold..."
"Forgotten feelings...
She longs to find..."
"But, dying inside her...
Was a longing to stay..."
Your poem is nicely set out in four-line verses with a rhyme.
I also like the three dots at the end of each line, as they lend a wistfulness to the poem.
I love this piece of prose, which actually reads like a poem because of the repetition of the theme of wheels of time which flew by. "Wheels of time" is a charming metaphor and a mellifluous refrain.
To me it seems that your past was not very different from that of most others. What is different is that most cannot put their experiences, hopes, sorrows, mistakes and omissions into such beautiful language.
I would suggest a few amendments:
In paragraph 1, I would change "And, yet..." to "And yet, ...".
In paragraph 4, I would change "lovers" to "lovers'".
Also in paragraph 4, "to" should be "too".
In the last paragraph I would suggest, instead of "The many lives I have touched...", that you use "Of the many lives that I have touched..." Also, "The many songs of longing I have sung." sounds incomplete.
This poem is particularly meaningful to me, as I struggle (always have) to remain focused and have never yet reached my goal to be "well organised". Your words echo my thoughts.
You use the shore as a metaphor for your goal. I like this analogy.
I'm wondering whether your goal is to be balanced. Would you care to let me know?
Choosing to put flowers (OK, they were weeds but pretty all the same) in her hair is a something that little girls love to do. How wonderful it is that she took delight in adorning herself with the beauty of nature.
I was relieved to read, after you had expressed some frustration, that her special surprise brought you happiness and that you had the graciousness to tell her how pretty she looked!
This read is special to me, because having raised two boys, I now have two little granddaughters. Thank you for making me smile.
For those who aren't too passionate about religion, this is a well-written, original way of describing dthe birth and growth of music an musicians, beginning with pop.
I like the way in which you mimic (irreverently) the sound of the Bible and the concept of the Trinity.
Wording which is found in the Bible is cleverly used to create an echo of the Bible, for instance: "In the beginning; "was born"; "create"; "On the third day"; "He rose again"; "eternal" and more.
Your choice of words and imagery is good. You've found a multitude of words to convey
The words and phrases the appeal to me include:
"humped mountain buried ..... rumbles"
"a derecho in sleep.
"Whistles, warbles, puffs of air,"
"raspberries that ne'er in fruit salad were." and "...sounds the likes of which no man should make."
There's humour in your poem but also near-desperate humour, bordering on resentment.
You highlight the wonderful logic of men in "he doesn't snore--he's never heard it.
Therefore: he doesn't snore." QED
I also have a husband who snores, and have also tried shoves, pokes roll-overs and bouncing. I've gone as far as hitting him and pinching him - really hard(!)- to no avail.
I don't wonder why you catch naps during the day, but I do wonder why you don't make him sleep in the bath!
This is interesting information. I wonder how or whether there is any way to measure its effectiveness. I wonder how many of the thirty girls will will actively participate in promoting the aims of Dreams (and SASA). I certainly hope that the organisation will make a positive difference.
A follow-up on your article in, say, a year's time, about the success of the program would be welcome.
I identify with what you have written, because I was brought up under similar circumstances. In my case "love" from my mother was conditional - conditional on wearing the"correct" clothes, conditional on using the "correct" words and most of all, conditional creating a "good" impression.
I particularly identify with and understand your last line.
Yes, I do really think so! Your take on political readers, illiterate graduates, the dumbing of America are spot on.
I like, and agree with, your irreverent last line.
I also like the expression and concept of "The dumbing of America..."
You've touched on massive, pertinent problems, and at the same time revealed the ignorance and self-kidding of the nation - if not the world!
What interests me about this story is the stark difference in your life before you were beaten into submission to accept that you needed an education, and your deep love for literature thereafter. Whilst you "write to live...live to write, and...continue to Write On!", do you not still feel the pain of the abuse you endured?
Your expression of how deep poetry runs in your veins is entirely convincing.
I see a build-up in this poem from the mundane to the fulfilment of love:
Nothing uplifting is mentioned in the first two verses. In the next two verses "best days" and "laughter" are mentioned, but hardly reached. From there onward there is a rise to "stunning beauty", music, and the exhilaration of having climbed a mountain.
The real peak, however, lies in the beauty of a relationship.
I especially like the simile in the first two lines.
I also like the following two lines:
"And without the blank stares of a thousand faces,
How could I have been captivated by the way you looked at me?"
This poem is stark and brief. You've chosen to write a Tyburn poem, and written it well. I'm wondering whether you specially chose this form to indicate that your brother's death was sudden.
All the adjectives describing death indicate your distinct discomfort with it. The word "cold" could describe death as well as your brother's body. I'm tempted to think you intended this.
The repetition of "jarring" and "scarring" is effective.
To me, this is a good poem. It left me feeling somewhat "cold".
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