Indeed you have caught the message, and thank you for the tips- some I have seen myself and others I believe you have a point- It should be “my lap” instead of “the lap”. also, the feather reference is that his feathers have been tussled, and in order to regain compusure he ruffles them back into place…I’m not sure what to do about that one.
Poetry / There was nothing to say.
I sit back only for a moment.
The old man rests next to me,
guiding the vehicle. The sleekness
of the leather and dark dashboard
seem to merge,
melting together seamlessly
into the night outside.
The reflection against the window
dances against the glass, sprinting
left to right
and back again, hustling its own relay.
Strung lights swing above, flicking,
flitting by. We hurtle onward,
void overhead.
Nothing is said
for a while.
Blackness to the right of us,
and shadow to the left. The
only brightness is the orbs,
flying by too fast to count,
and only just beyond them
is the blanket that reaches from
horizon to horizon, tucking in
the night.
His eyes travel the road
while his fingertips leave the wheel.
Grace settles on him,
and his fingers push
and then slip
in to the skin on his chest.
Digits roam within, probing the memories inside.
The hand retracts from his cavity,
and with it he clutches the snow globe.
The ancient drops the sphere in the lap,
and shakes his feathers again, regaining face.
His features return to stone.
Passing rays of light pierce the object,
but nothing happens.
“What does it have to say?” he asks,
and my eyes dig closer, my hands offer it up
to the winking stars.
I am too young to actually see the message inside,
and so I shake it slightly,
so lightly,
as the curious child might do.
It makes only a light tinkling noise.
As impetuous youth is doomed to do,
I cast away the globe, finding solace
in neither the man’s words
or in the light tinkle
of the small, small bells.
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Hello,
My comments and suggestions are below. Please remember that they are only my opinions as a reader. Feel free to use them or ignore them as you wish.
Grammar:
Perfect! I didn’t notice any errors. Good job!
What I Liked:
You used rich vocabulary, along with descriptive detail. I also really liked your use of free verse. It fit well with the style and theme of the poem.
Suggestions:
As of now, I’m afraid I don’t have any for you. I like this piece the way it is.
Final Comments:
I really did enjoy this piece. You have a good piece of work here! Thanks for sharing!
God Bless,
Aurelia Rose
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Yes, but sob-stories are cheesy and overly sentimental. This is neither. What makes this great is your natural sense of when to pull back, detach the speaker, and when to add the introspective bits so it’s not purely images strung along a wire.
I wasn’t fond of the drawn-out imagery in st.1-3 at first, but now I see that you’re establishing the situation and the mood; the speaker looking out the window in silence, avoiding his father. love the “blanket..tucking in the night” line. It’s interesting because you’ve created a snowglobe of a scene, and when you introduce the snowglobe metaphor later, it’s like a layer within a layer. If you know what I mean.
The only place you lose me is st.6. Is “the ancient” referring to the father? If it is, why is it “the lap” instead of “his”? Be careful not to push the “detachment from father” theme to the point where it becomes too vague. I don’t understand “feathers” either, are you comparing him to a chicken, a coward? I think you’ve introduced too many separate images here for it to be cohesive with the rest of the poem.
st.8, should be “a curious child”
Overall, I love how you begin subtle and build from there. I believe I’ve caught your message.
For being only 15 you’re very good! Your flow is excellent, and it’s easily understandable. I can’t even think of any minor suggestions to make. Do continue writing!
I know the feeling you try to express in this poem…I never had a lot of respect for the experience of my elders (still don’t, heh). The snowglobe is a perfect symbol for this, since parents always seem to think they’re good presents and kids just throw them away. It’s a bit odd that it comes out of his chest…I suggest you just have him pull it out of a bag or something, until you’re really attached to the idea.
this poem painted a good picture, it is what i look at when i read a poem. it may need to clairified slightly more so the picture presented requires little effort on the readers part to imagine. that however comes with experience, something at 14 you will have plenty of time to gain. overall, good work
It starts off well with good descriptions and sets a mood or tone, but by S3 I want more, where is this going? I get it already, we’re in a car at night and the two of you are driving together and not talking. The critical S4 is glossed over. What questions were asked, how did he dig deeper, what did he say that was empty or meaningless? Here is where the real poem should start with images and feelings. You’re telling and not showing. How is your grief tangible? Without your notes, which should be part of the poem, the poem is too sparse to understand. You have the stuff to write it out, go deeper and attack it again, would love to read a rewrite.
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