This is an incredibly scary yet beautiful peice. It is very remenisant of song lyrics. I think this peice can easily translate into music. Reading it aloud really brings out the rythm and melody to the poem and the repition of the 4th stanza into the 6th stanza really brings the entire poem together.
Thank you so much for your entries into the first round of the secret scars poetry contest.
I love this poem. I think it is absolutley beautiful. The last line really has that "awww..." factor that really makes the poem stand out in my mind and heart. I think this poem will really strike a chord in all readers, young and old, male or femals. Whether it's how a reader may feel, or how a reader wishes they can feel, I'm sure you will recieve praises from all on this wonderful peice.
hahah! this is such a cute poem! I know there have been quite a few nights where I have woken up out of a dead sleep because of our dogs. They can be just as sneaky.
I didn't notice any grammar errors, and the peice flowed very nicely with a rather eerie tone at the begining that quickly turned into a sort of comical tone. I say it is very well written.
-Nizza
ps - I really wish I could just spend my time port raiding you but right now I am smack dab in the middle of moving, so if you don't hear from me for a day or two - don't fret for I will return!
This is such a wonderful poem, although I feel there could be more in it. The poem has such a calming tone, and maybe I just wasn't ready to stop reading it . And I'm still wondering why that guy was taking tomatoes on a plane. I mean, I could understand if tomatoes were like coconuts and only grew in certain places, but tomatoes grow everywhere.... I guess it's just one of those crazy things people do that inspires a beautifully written poem.
Being a mother myself, this poem brought me to tears. It's amazing how much we wish for our children, how we watch them while they are young and see traits we hope they will never loose. My daughter, like your son, loves to sing. And everywhere we go you can hear her belting out songs. At 2 years old, her songs are mostly mumbles but she sings anyway - regardless if people can understand her or not. I hope she never looses that.
The flow of the poem, I think, is perfect. you don't seem to force rhyme for the sake of keeping up with the rythym.
I know nothing about history and I'm certainly no war buff. But this letter is a beautiful one, really telling what it's like for this man to be in such a predicament all the while still thinking of his wife and family. My favorite part is the very last line in the P.S. "and please do your utmost to prevent him from becomming a soldier." I think many soldiers, even today, who have children feel the same way.
This is a very intresting story. I myself don't know much about the philipines, actually I don't even know where it's located. Call me a typical ignorant American, but I guess I just never thought about it much.
Anyway, on the reviewing note, I feel that you could have started this peice off a little stronger to really captivate your audience. You do a good job of slowly luring the reader in, but alot of readers tend to just pay attention to the first line or two and if they're not captivated, they stop reading.
On the grammar note, I found 2 errors that really caught my eye. The first one is where your talking about the man trying to talk to the woman on the plane. Replace "tries" with "try". Skipping between past and present tense can sometimes confuse the reader.
The second error I noticed is in the sentence "All of a sudden, after so many years after Papa’s death, Ma decided it was time to forgive Papa for his extra-marital affairs and fathering illegitimate children." The repitition of the word "after" is off-putting. I suggest taking out the first "after" to make the sentence flow smoother.
I do want to applaude you on your descriptions of the aftermath from the volcano. I myself have never whitnessed a volcano or the effects it leaves behind. Where I live, the worst disaster we have are floods. But, your descriptions were amazing and really took me where I needed to be to understand the horrors of a volcanic eruption.
This is a great peice although I feel there should be more, like it is unfinished.
I love the fact that you are not scared to wright about God. I find that alot of times people seem to shun away from writing about our Father, and instead make little hints in their writings instead of praising him full force. I figure they don't want the title of a "bible-beater" or to be condemned for speaking their heart. I find it funny how many people are seeking salvation and how few of them are actually willing to look towards God. I applaud you for not only writing about such things, but also for posting it where everyone can read.
Anothr beautiful poem! It has such a free-spirited soul to it. It makes you picture a butterfly, or fairy, or bird - any winged creature resting for a while on her journey to seek out her dreams. It is so hopeful as well, it makes the reader think that this "enchantress" will touch each and every one of our lives on her way to live out what she has dreamt of.
This is such a beautiful poem. It reminds me of some poems I once wrote but instead of butterfly wings, I talk about Ladybug wings. go figure.
This peice has such wonderful imagery, touching on some of the issues plagueing the world today. I am with you on the thought of wanting war to end. I don't think any war is right. On a religious note, the bible says "God is love and he who is not loving his niehbor does not love God". I know your wish to end hatred and war by means of your "butterfly wings" says alot about the person you are.
When you sent me the review of my letter to my mother I noticed your handle, then the link to this story at the bottom. My grandfather died of alzheimers, and now my Aunt Donna has it. I had to read your story.
My grandfather was alot like your aunt, even though I don't remember much before he had the disease except through the stories my mom and her sisters would tell. My first formadable memories of him included playing checkers with him and thinking he had to be the checker champion of the world. Mom always tells the stories of how he would spend all day working on cars to put food on the table. She told me he could fix anything that was broken and was always covered in grease and oil when he finally came in at night, long past dinner. But I remember most was when he was in the hospital. The doctors said that it would be good for him to be surrounded by family - even if he didn't know us. So my mom and her sisters brought all of us grandkids in (there was 14 of us and honestly I have a hard time remembering all of our names...lol). Anyway, my grandfather could only identify one of us - me. He didn't even know his own daughters. I remember when it was my mom's turn to bring me into the room. He looked right at me, so excited, and explaimed "Dawnnisa!!!" then when my mom smiled and started talking to him, he looked at her and said "Who are YOU to me?!?!".
It was always funny to me what he did actually remember. It was always the most random stuff. It was random enough that he remembered me out of all his children and grandchildren - espesally since I had never been around him alot except our occasional game of checkers - which was something he didn't remeber. And at his worst, a few months before he passed, his hard-working fix-it days came back to him and he unhinged every door in my grandma Susie's house so perfectly that they stayed up until you tried to open them. Susie even had to lock all the appliances away after he dismembered her blender, microwave, stove, phone, and the water heater. In his last week of life, he took apart the hospital bed he layed in - which was unfathomable to us because he couldn't even remeber to walk or chew... but he could still take out screws, nuts and bolts.
Now my aunt is battling the same disease. Her's was brought on by a stroke. And now her family that has been so tightly-knit for years is falling apart and she is showing signs of severe depression. Alot like your aunt, my aunt was the same neat, tidy, always knew where everything was, obbesivly organized, church oriented... just everything people strive so hard to be. She raised 3 children, then single handedly raised her 5 grandchildren when her oldest daughter became addicted to crack. She held her little part of the family so perfectly together. Then things started falling apart one by one and so is her mind.
Anyway, I don't mean to talk so much about me - It's just that this story really hits home. I've encountered so many people who don't have any experiance with the disease and just don't get it. I know my family (and I'm sure yours does this to) always tries to make the best of it. We still laugh about when my grandfather urinated in the heating vents so Grandma Susie's house STILL smells like pee when she turns the heat on. I guess it's a sence of humor and keeping yourself living in the present that really keeps you going when someone so close to you is suffering from Alzheimers.
Look, the secret of poetry is there are no secrets. You can adhere to the forms and rules and regulations, but those are never any fun, they just make writing into a chore. I think you did beautifully, the only thing I would uggest is in your editing box, scroll down the lines and press "enter" randomly. This will give line breaks and momentary pauses to the reader. That's what makes poestry so great, it isn't one big paragraph, or one big story. It's a place to let your mind roam free and pause anywhere you fee you want to pause. There are no rules in a free verse poem, even punctuation adheres to a whole new set of guidelines. You do what you want with words as a poet, and just let the words flow. Poetry is truly an amazing thing, and I really do hope you write more.
and read what you want out of it. I mostly right in "free verse" - which is where you just wreite whatever your heart wants without rules or guidelines. You cn even play around with the spacing if you want. I think free-verse poetry is more like going to the playground than anything. It's all about fun and doing what your heart finds fit.
Ok so I'm crying after reading this story. It brings back so many memories of Shawn, The little boy my mom "Fostered" when I was in the 7th grade. It's so unbeleivably hard for me to think about him now. And this story reminded me so much of him.
My mom wasn't technicly his foster mom, but we had him temporarily in our lives. He was born a "crack-baby" and only given a few short months to survive. When he was finally brought home from the hospital, no one wanted him. His mom passed him off to his grandma who was overwelhmed with her other grandchildren and child to be bothered with him. My mom ran into her one day and brought him home. We cured his shakes and tremors with love. We taught him to be independant and take care of himself. We taught him that hwen he was hugry, how to get into the fridge and pick out healthy snacks. We taught him to walk, to talk and express what he wanted or needed, and we taught him to dial 911 when it was nessicary. We knew his mom would be back for him some day and we were right. About a year after my mom got him, his own mother came back demanding her baby back. Since we weren't approved by the state to have him, we had to give him up. 3 Weeks later my mom went by their house to visit him. There she found Shawn tied up to the couch with duct tape and rope, screaming to get free. Mom immediatly untied him and brought him back home. We had him for almost another year, before the grandma came to us telling us she wanted her grandson, and we gave him up yet again. That was the last time he lived with us. Apparently through the years he was in and out of state custody, in and out of foster homes, in and out of everywhere. He never truly had a home. Recently we found out that he is living in an orphange right down the hill from where I live, and occasionally I will sit and wait in the parking lot across the street to just catch a glimpse of him.
It kills me to think that he has nothing of his childhood. We have pictures and momentos of when he was living with us, but there all things he doesnt have. He doesnt know his first words, or when he took his first steps. He probally doesnt even know the story of his childhood, and how incredible of a baby he was. He has no idea.
I've often wanted to run and hold him, to cradle him like I did when he was baby. I want to take him home with me and tell him that he is finally home, that he can rest and this is where he belongs. But I can't. My momand I have tried to see him but the nuns at the orphange won't allow it. They say they try to give him as much normalcy as possible and the jolt of us showing up would be too much for him to bear.
The extent of how close we were to him is unfathimable. He was like my little brother, my mom's son. He belonged with us. We were supposed to be his life, but it didn't happen that way. Now we are flooded with memories and he has nothing. It's just not fair.
Mom and I have often talked about going thru the state and trying to get him back, permanently. I still think about that everyday. This story your wrote reminded me of that love, that feeling of raising a baby without knowing much about them, without giving birth to them, and just loving them because they diserve to be loved. ok so I'm still crying... Thank you for this reminder that we're not the only ones...
You are right, it is stories like these that really give us hope for the human race.
This man and woman I knew had taken me in like I was one of there grandchildren when I was homeless and on the streets. They bought me clothes and set me up with a job and a new life to become a Woman, not some crazy abandoned child anymore.
When I had met them was the year of their 57th wedding anniversary. Little Grandma, as I called the woman was a Lady in every sence of the word. She was the glue that held her family together, she spent most of her time at church and organizing church functions. By looking at her in her pants suits and stilletos - you'd never beleive she was in her late 70's. Pap, as I called him, suffered from Perkinsons disease but even thru his shakes and tremors no one could stop him from fixing the things that needed fixed and no one could destroy his spunk. He never said much, but the few words he did say ment the most to me.
Just this past year in July on their 66th wedding anniversary, we had a big barbeque for them. Pap spent most of the party in the house watching golf so I decided to go in with him. There I asked him what the secret was to him and little Grandma being together for so long.
He told me, "I stay away from her, she stays away from me. We have seperate bedrooms for when we get angry. Then every Sunday, we cook dinner together."
3 days after Thanksgiving he passed away, and I will never forget his words. We go see Little Grandma as much as we can, but we know her time isn't too far off. Just this Sunday for Easter sunday we went to see her and me and her sat and talked. She told me how proud she was of what I had became, and then she apologized that she wouldn't be able to come to my wedding.
Sitting in front of golf on tv that she wasn't watching at all She said, "I'm tired. I feel lousy without Pap. But remember, I will be at your wedding in spirit. You've come a long way, child."
I just wanted to share that story with you, just a little extra hope.
I am doing this review for the Bipolar Special Forces Unit...
and let me say this, it takes alot in a poet to make me quiver while reading their words. And the goosebumps from reading this are still covering my arms.
This is an absolutley incredible peice. I began reading it, expecting typical poetry, then my lips began to move with the rythm of the words and suddenly I was reading every words aloud like a song. It happened naturally, without forcing feelings.
I got lost within the words, feeling the pain, the anguish of a formerly drug addicted boy from the throws of a "not-so-perfect" family growing into a love-addicted man. The journey is not so unfimilar to me; the drug addictions, the sex addictions, doing everything to feel the void that childhood causes.
This is a beautiful poem. I love poems that are short, and to the point, conveying everything the author wants to say in a few simple lines. Your poem is a prime example of that, a perfect rythym that isnt drawn out or over stated. I think that is one of the main flaws in alot of todays poetry, the author feels they must write long winded peices to get their point across and instead the reader just becomes bored. Your poem did not aloow me to get bored.
Ha! You know, I have been reviewing poetry about roses for the past couple days and for once, I am truly joyed to read one. Ok, so I know it sounds sick of me, but I can't help the way my mind works and it's love for blunt morbid poetry. I absolutley love this peice. The whole thing was wonderful, and at first I thought it was going to just be another poem of depression and bi-polar disorder, but no, the guy actually kills himself! It's fantastic!. (I'm not at all saying people should kill themselves, it's just nice to see a different ending - espesally a not so happy one).
Oh and your last line was the best - "Never forget the day of black roses and guns to the face" Oh, absolutley incredible!
-Nizza
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This poem is truly beautiful, really creating a song within the readers head. The imagery is great, and the idea of how much impact a simple rose garden has on so many is truly brought to light in this poem.
my favorite line:
"Their graceful notions
And subtle motions
Add perfume to the air,"
-Nizza
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This a very lovely peice. In the beginings the comparisons are a little shaky and don't really flow as well but it seems that as you got more into writing it, the flow found itself and it ended perfectly. I really enjoyed your final comparison to giving roses and relationships space for them to bloom with a lovely frangrance. I wish though that you could have belended the sentences better rather then "roses do this. in relationships we do this." It just seems to be such a harsh sentence structure for such a delicate peice.
-Nizza
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ok so I have to be honest, this poem just didn't grab me. In the few line that did grab me it was like I became lost because they didn't blend with the line before or after. I was just lost, and when I get lost I can't focus.
I think you did do a good job on the structure though. You stayed right with the letters and kept a sweet tone to your poem. The tone created in the words you used was one of sweetness and love and you stuck to that tone, even if the lines didn't exactly flow together.
-Nizza
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Aw... seriously you have tears rolling down my face. Ok, so I'm a hopeless romantic and by the sounds of this story, so are you, But honestly, this story was incredible. It was just so sweet and perfect and gave me goosebumbs. It was so perfect that I wasn't even distracted by an grammar errors - even if there were any. All I could do was get lost in the story.
So wonderfully written. I love it!
-Nizza
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O man, I just typed out like a 600 character review on this peice and then my web-browser messed up. I hate when that happens... Let's see if I can recreate this review...
Ok first thing, I only noticed one error. In the line "eggs and cigerrettes they had it all" I think there should be a comma between cigerretees and they. I'm not an editor though, so I could be wrong. But that was the only error that threw me off while reading this.
I think this is a beautifully written peice. It takes me back to the days of my childhood when the family would spend the summers on Virginia Beach. I remember going to the beach in the early morning and the scenery was just as you described, so lazy just waiting for the bustle of the mid afternoon tourists.
You did a very good job of holding that 'lazy' tone through-out the peice. It flows beautifully and really makes the reader feel calmed, like he or she is witnessing this first hand.
If it was my peice I would add a few more adjectives, espesally in the last line. But, it is not my piece - it is yours.
-Nizza
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