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Thread: Unremembered...

  1. #1
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    Unremembered...

    I love from my window to look at
    The road being travelled on…
    The broad, washed road
    that lights up first in the day, holding both its sides together.
    I hear young girls with flowers in their baskets,
    Their skirts running swift and merry—
    Old men sit and talk of what I cannot know,
    I try harder, leaning upon them from my window.
    At the sound of little boys running,
    full glee—I know they have
    guns in their hands—
    they shoot and kill each other and run on
    laughing louder.
    I hear them fall and get up,
    I hear them everyday.
    The sellers and buyers come
    Looking for wants—up the road
    I do not know how much or what they get,
    But they come everyday.
    The young men and women walking past and stopping in smiles, perhaps.
    Hurrying workers and lazy little dogs with their moms.
    It has never been anything for anyone to look down upon a rushed morning road—
    Someone else must have leaned down many years ago…
    But it is me they look up at, and wonder…I know,
    They have forgotten, as people ever do,
    To remember, how well once I could hear, and see too…

  2. #2
    Original Poster Buh4Bee's Avatar
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    You create a view from another time:
    I hear young girls with flowers in their baskets,
    Their skirts running swift and merry—

    I'm not sure how affective this is, because it doesn't seem to add any charm to the scene you describe. It actually felt superficial.

    The opening lines are strong:
    I love from my window to look at
    The road being traveled on…
    The broad, washed road
    that lights up first in the day, holding both its sides together.

    I found this to be such a vivid and visceral description of a city street. I think I was disappointed when the Victorian flowers girls showed up.

    The real strength of your poem is that you clearly convey the point: the narrator isn't participating in life but simply watching. Or is participating as a voyeur.

    On a side note, this reminds me of an Emily Dickinsin poem I read on one of the threads here.

    Thanks for sharing, I really enjoyed reading this.

  3. #3
    King of Dreams MorpheusSandman's Avatar
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    I almost entirely agree with Buh4Bee on this one. There's some good stuff here, but it could definitely do with some refining. Focus more on the images and the dramatic arc of the act being described.
    "As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light of meaning in the darkness of mere being." --Carl Gustav Jung

    "To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due." --Neil Gaiman; The Sandman Vol. 4: Season of Mists

    "I'm on my way, from misery to happiness today. Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh" --The Proclaimers

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    Quote Originally Posted by MorpheusSandman View Post
    I almost entirely agree with Buh4Bee on this one. There's some good stuff here, but it could definitely do with some refining. Focus more on the images and the dramatic arc of the act being described.
    I thank you, that was helpful...

  5. #5
    Still, on a chalk plateau Bar22do's Avatar
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    And I agree with both Buh and Morpheus. And I too thought of Emily Dickinson reading this poem.

  6. #6
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    Quote Originally Posted by Bar22do View Post
    And I agree with both Buh and Morpheus. And I too thought of Emily Dickinson reading this poem.
    hmmmmm!

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