sad sad sad
i see poor young soldiers, perhaps ww2 era, in their battle dress, rifles in hand, just hiding out, waiting for their chance until they die, serving their country, true, but without honor and all the glory of battle scars
I'm guessing it takes place in a town that is in a valley or a large ditch. And all the water comes pouring in, drowning the people out of their houses.
I like that line. Sounds very harsh and negative. "Oh yeah, I live in a storm drain of a town. Yeah, its crap." Sounds like something one would say in a conversation.
Yay fox-holes! I love foxes! They are really cool. And they are so cute. I wish I had one for a pet.
But anyways, back to your poem. Are you comparing the people to foxes, or are their dwellings small and humble?
"Estranged and yearning for the sun..."
You've got me here. I hate fall and winter. I yearn for the days when the sun shines brightly and casts its warmth upon us. I look out the window right now and it is a gloomy fall day. It's going to rain soon. *sob*
finds our bones
I love endings like these. Abrupt, and yet they convey imagery and a strong feeling. With this cold weather my internal temperature goes nuts and sometimes my hands are cold even when I'm inside. Or it could also be poor circulation. But winter, it always gets deep down into your bones. Horrible for humans, perfect for soft drinks. I can't wait until I start teaching in the Philippines. They don't have winter there! WOOT!
This poem was a very strong poem. I find one writes strong pieces about things they don't like. Don't know why, but it seems to happen that way.
the hopelessness of the situation radiates from the piece.
the way each stanza produces less words and bigger images somehow...
the way you start with rain or dew in the storm water drain of a town... giving the idea that it is a dead end, no hope town... only way is down...
and cold autumns lead to freezing winters which freeze emotions and moods with it... so while leaves change colour and die so do hearts until frozen stares and depressive/oppressive dreams of running away and getting out of this treachery take over...
and that is what we all have in common... winter chills us to the bone... takes away our sunny gaeity and leaves us waiting for something to help us forget how crap the hand we've been dealt is...
First of all, I admire the voice of the piece. I think that its quietness produces a powerfully hushing grip that demands you to really take it in. I also think that it allows people to enter a personal level of communication that could make it possible to have an internally rattling connection with this piece.
I also like the seemingly sluggish effect of the hung ending. It gives that illusion of a held breath, or a venture consumed by hopelessness under the somewhat dreary effect of what you are trying to say. To me, it was as if the persona that was translating the heart of the words actually froze under such the coldness of the season.
Out of all its feats however, I think that its construction is what makes it beautiful. The use of the words clearly dramatizes the imagery and puts in the a respectable measure of gloom.