I am tired of trying to find you in my phone.
Sometimes, it feels like you only exist in small pixels of light clustered together
to show me your face.
The only way to hear your voice now is by sticking the phone to my ear
and listening to the same words over and over and over again.
They were words that were muttered into existence with a task,
and once the task was fulfilled,
they were empty.
All meaning lost,
until I found those words on my damn phone.
I bet you didn’t know
how much I would hold onto those words.
It’s so impersonal.
You gave birth to me and now I can’t even hear your voice or see your face?
Sometimes, my heart goes as still as yours is now.
Other times, I hear my heart beating.
I can hear everyone’s heart beating.
It’s a rhythm that the world dances to.
But you can’t dance anymore.
You loved to dance.
There is a lot to like in this poem, and I have more to share, but for now, I wish to make a suggestion for your closing lines, which currently read as follows:
ReplyDeleteIt’s a rhythm that the world dances to.
But you, you don’t dance anymore.
You loved to dance.
How about this version?
It’s a rhythm that the world dances to.
But you, who loved to dance, can't dance anymore.
I feel like ending on "can't dance anymore" intensifies the tragic feeling.
This poem is extremely well written. I love the irony between the modernism of this poem with the use of a phone and the renaissance background. I thought that was worth a mention. The feeling of loss and grief is prominent throughout this poem which creates a level of relatability appreciated by the reader(s) like myself and I'm sure more to come.
ReplyDeletehow tragic! this pain is the most glorious kind because it seems so hidden behind the imagery of your phone and the pixels; your ending reminds me of static because it's something you know you're waiting on but can't continue. you're a beautiful writer
ReplyDeleteYou get off the a good start with this poem, avoiding tired language and vague abstractions and portraying things in a way that appeals to my inner senses, bringing the poem alive.
ReplyDeleteI feel you need to trust the reader more to get it. You seems to have a tendency to explain things that are already clear. You are good at description here and do not need to follow up such descriptions with little explanations that reflect and anxiety about a reader not understanding you. But I understand you, and the explaining detracts from your artistry. Let's take a look at this section:
The words mean nothing now. [<--explanation]
They were words that were muttered into existence with a task, [<--description]
and once the task was fulfilled, they were empty. [<--description]
All meaning lost, [<--explanation]
No need to over-explain! Now what if you simplified it to this?
They were words muttered into existence for a task, and once that task
was complete, they were empty.
This tells it all! Nothing more is needed! The great thing about poetry is that poetry readers care enough to figure things out.
The ending of this poem is heartbreaking and makes me wonder what she died from. In a previous comment, I suggested a little change to the closing lines.
This poem is incredible. At the line "You gave birth to me and now I can’t even hear your voice or see your face?" I literally said out loud "oh my Gd." I was so shocked, because as I was reading I expected it to be about a boyfriend or a heartbreak caused by a boy. I was not expecting it to be about a mother who has passed away. That shock factor, for me, was the best part. I found the meaning behind the beginning a little confusing - when the speaker describes what is left of her mother on her phone - I couldn't figure out if it was feelings of resentment, anger, and disappointment, or of grief and not understanding, and longing. Overall, so so powerful.
ReplyDeleteWow Erica I love how you use what’s within a phone physically to describe your emotions. The small pixels clustered together, wow I love this line so much. I would suggest changing up the line “the words that mean nothing now” to simply words that mean nothing now. I just feel the the takes away from this awesome line. I love how you imply that you found your phone and it seems to be a sort of time capsule to go backwards and connect with her. Then you go on to reveal the person your writing about is the one who gave birth to you, but you can’t see them. Not only did this line break my heart, it truly moved me Erica. I love how you end by comparing a heart beat to dancing. Then you say it’s a rhythm we all dance in, as our hearts beat. Yet then you say she no longer dances, but it could mean exactly that and also that she unfortunately is no longer alive. As she danced/lived and loved both life beating on and dance. This comparison was moving and very poetic, really loved this so much.
ReplyDelete