Saturday, November 21, 2009

Hope

Don't bother dear,
It's sure to smear.

The child paints,
The dog pants.
The mother sighs,
The father rants.

The world turns.
The world burns.
In his room the child creates.
He won't listen as critic berates.

3 comments:

Marta said...

I really like this. Maybe one of your favourite pieces. It has such a nice flow and the opening is just great. Made me want to keep reading. And I like how it talks about the child, then the dog, then the mother and father and the the world and back to the child. It was an interesting movement from small to big to bigger and back to small. The only thing is that the last line seems a little...forced? The meter is off and considering the rest of the piece and how well it worked I think that one needs to be tweaked.

Mike Carrozza said...

MSMC.
Pretty much read her comment with my voice reading it in your head and maybe throw in a rant about garbage bags and wishbones.

But I must stress that I feel like the last line was forced and that you could have continued. I think that you had more to say. It felt like there was a time constraint and you had to finish it. I like this, but the ending makes me want more.

Francis said...

I didn't really feel like writing when I wrote this. Last line was indeed quickly done.