Greetings Inkers - This week I was challenged by Lazidaisical and chose to write a poem. It's the second one I've ever written because poetry isn't my thing and not writing fiction like I usually do felt wrong, but it's all about self-exploration in the II. You can find the prompt that made this happen at the end of the piece.
I challenged Amanda and you can see her response at: Last Mom on Earth.
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| Image by: sarafordphotography.com |
Here, where the waters meet the land we walk the shore
His scrawny frame running along the beach ahead of us
My hand in his father’s, we watch, ignoring what needs to be done
Blue skies, blue waters; now a grey painting above, black sludge below
Our world; broken yet through the boys eyes, beautiful.
Gaunt our bodies have become, no food for weeks,
What we have the boy eats
Our time should have come and gone, determination drives us
What we must do is necessary
I look into his father’s eyes and he looks at the boy
Unable to look at me
I’m drawn to the cannon in his outstretched hand, and we stop
Unaware, the boy doesn’t feel the sting as he drops
In a moment my existence splits in half
I close my eyes; he makes sure it’s painless
I wait and watch, the cannon, the sting, it stings him too
We see the boy running trackless along the beach
Once more the sky is blue, the water; clean
As if they were always there, others stroll, laughing, smiling
The boy makes a friend, and another, they all run together
We walk
That day, our day, never ends, lost in forever.
This week's prompt was: 'I went ahead and did it anyway' ...
Profound, Stefan.
ReplyDeleteI do have a nitpick. Is that canon, or cannon?
It's cannon, I didn't even realise I did that ooops! Thanks for the heads-up, I've amended it. ;-)
ReplyDeleteTHANKS!
I don't know how to critique poetry. It's something I am terrified of attempting so the fact you stepped out of your comfort zone deserves a HUGE bravo :)
ReplyDeleteThat said, I love the imagery this evokes, the desperation, and the ultimate sacrifice the parents make so everyone can be in a place that is blue and clean again.
visiting from Indie Ink
one more comment...choice of cannon is interesting. How would a weakened man, who's had no food, be able to pick up and move a cannon? They are, in my mind very large, heavy, difficult to move objects.
ReplyDeletePerhaps change to rifle?
Poetry is not my strong suit so I can't comment on the structure in any constructive way (sorry) but your piece did give me the wow factor as I kept reading. I couldn't quite believe what I was reading - it has definitely brought tears to my eyes and is profoundly sad but beautiful. Your description of the beach is very vivid and at the same time what you are describing about the people is very subtle.
ReplyDeleteJust one question - why a cannon?
could be that the it's a cannon to them, as distraught and disintegrated as they are, but to others may be just a gun or other small weapon.
ReplyDeleteThanks you all for your input, comments and views I truly appreciate that you've not only read this but gave it some thought too.
ReplyDeleteYou know when your talking to someone and say something that you both know means something else?
When I wrote the word 'cannon' in my mind it was never a massive weapon, more like a 'hand cannon' which is simply a gun. I left out the 'hand' part and the use of the word 'cannon' has rasied questions which isn't actually a bad thing.
I'm thinking I may just leave it as it is in case anyone else reads it and has an opinion on the usage of the word. I'd love to know what others might say.
Thanks again ladies ;-)
This is so good it hurts. The imagery I'm speaking of specifically. The moment between the mother and father just before... heartbreaking yet tender.
ReplyDeleteAs for the poetry, I am a fan of your non-fiction but knowing that this was a challenge to you out of your comfort level makes it that much more spectacular in my opinion. Bravo!
I have no idea how to critique poetry. This was just gorgeous, though. Heartbreaking. And I took the word cannon to be a metaphor, possibly for a needle full of something or a blow dart of poison. When the narrator says "...he didn't feel the sting as he drops," that's the image that came to mind. That it's a tiny thing but capable of massive destruction, like a cannon.
ReplyDeleteA powerful image you have created. The helplessness of the parents is heartbreaking.
ReplyDeleteThe only critique I would have is in the first verse, second line where you write "His scrawny frame running along the beach ahead of us" and again in the last line "He scampers ahead." This seems a little redundant.
RG - Yeah, poetry is something I steer clear of, I'm just glad you liked it! ;-)
ReplyDeleteM.Bedhead - That's what I was aiming for but knew I couldn't go into tons of detail with it. I always saw the weapon as a small handheld thing but gave it a MASSIVE name.
Tara - you're absolutely right. I failed to see I'd done that. This poetry stuff is difficult to proofread. Thanks! :-)
This is so heartbreaking...!!! But very well done. I have no critiques. I'm more concerned about reactions and evoking emotions than technical anythingz. But I have no place critiquing poetry anyway! Again, this is marvelous, Stefan.
ReplyDelete