Thread: A Passing Afternoon

I wrote a draft of this awhile back, and this morning I came back to it and gave it a heavy edit. I was hoping it is less muddled now than it was. Any critiques would be a big help, especially letting me know if I can economize it any more and if it comes off as sentimental.

Thanks!

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Right off the bat, I love the way it captures a snapshot of a moment, very nice.

It feels like someone you loved. Someone that had a good and even life and was a good influence on you. Someone that you intend to keep in your heart. I like this. It sings!

What I loved the most as I read the poem was the imagery, Squalid. Nice, nice way to picture an event with words. I can't take that away from your style in this moving piece.

Well as much as I enjoyed the piece I only thought I could suggest a few things or ask a few questions. " The air is not BLACK, nor menacing, yet the clouds cast a haze on everything." As much as I understand the message conveyed, I wonder if you really would still need to qualify the air as not being black since the clouds above seem to work contrary to it?

The third stanza is quite explanatory, moreso, for me, it is the backbone of the message conveyed. I thought of a way of shortening the words but came up empty...dunno. The words are all important.

You've a very inviting work in this piece. Keep it up.

Thanks for the crit Fox. I will definitely try to look at that third stanza and limit the exposition.

(The wind feels the weight of the clouds –
it is restless and clumsy.)

I appreciate reading your poem, Squalid G - and this line describing the wind is Wonderful. Thank you for sharing -

Lovely poem, I could feel the love and sadness and how it is reflected in the weather.

Just a few thoughts for you to consider.

Storm clouds that threatened us
earlier in the day
are now above, hiding the Sun and blue, ..I think you could delete "and blue" so that the sun becomes the focus and compares to the mother's face.
like the veil i imagine
will hide your mother’s face
in the days and years to come.

The air is not black, nor menacing, ..maybe sky rather than air
yet the clouds cast a haze on everything – ..you could delete "the"
from the parking lot across the way
to the mourners lined
and wrapped around the ashy building.
The wind feels the weight of the clouds –
it is restless and clumsy. ...here I wonder if you need the repetition of clouds. Maybe
"the wind, feeling their weight,
is restless and clumsy"


I have not known you long
but when I see you alone
on that white porch, guarded by those wooden poles,
and sitting atop a creaking, wooden swing,
I feel safe. I feel at home,
staring at your small limbs,
understanding the way
in which they sway with the swing, effortlessly.

Your hair is dim, supple and straight.
I see your eyes –
they are tree-bark brown and dry:
they do not notice those who go by;
they watch the clouds move.

You sit on a swing outside the funeral home –
your body is still and your feet are loose, ..maybe "your body still, feet loose,"
toes turned down
towards the oak of the deck below –
I see you just the way you are.

SG, this piece does not come across as sentimental at all. It shows me (no telling, here) a glimpse, a gentle portrait of a young girl. After reading, I'm intrigued by the title. As in the passing of clouds ~ A Passing Afternoon. Or as in the passing of a life. A great double entendre.

"Your hair is dim, supple and straight.
I see your eyes –
they are tree-bark brown and dry:
they do not notice those who go by;
they watch the clouds move."

tree-bark brown and dry:

Brilliant imagery!

Shadows, thank you for the critique. I changed some stuff around based on your comments.

Book and Silver, thank you for the kind words. I'm glad you enjoyed the piece.

Here is an edited version based on comments.