Narph...I know that this poem almost made it to the front page this week and I think it really should have been there so hard luck on the random tie break the site made. I'm hoping that the judges will take another look at this poem and consider it a winner next week because it's just so beautiful, down to earth and honest. Everyone takes the loss of a loved one differently and we all grieve in ways that are personal to us alone. I think the play dough is a wonderful idea and, it's a thought unique to you so, that makes it even more special.
Yes, this poem needs a second chance at the front page so...come on judges????
3 years ago
This just gave me Goosebumps. It's a really emotion piece that's written beautifully.
'Your hands don't exist anymore.
Burned to ash along with your soft white hair
and deep grey eyes.
I put the play-dough away,
the lines on my palms, disgusting.'
These lines are my favourite because they are so sombre but fitting.
Man is clay, molded to his life. Your use of play-doh here adds layers of meaning: seeming permanency yet truly ephemeral; molded into who you are by this loved one (Parent? Grandparent?); the ability to transform yourself to meet your new needs; visible symbol of life's journey.
The emotion you pour into the piece is exquisitely painful and real. Your sign off regarding the lines on your hand (disgusting) can be taken in at least a couple of negative ways (anger at being left behind; troubled by the uncertainty of life and false hopes) and yet it can represent a very positive resolve to let go of the past and carry on as this person would want you to.
It's not so much that this poem deserves the front page as it is the front page deserves this poem.
I can't find the suitable words to describe the depth and the beauty of this piece, your mature words made me wonder, perhaps having these palm prints could have made the pain of the bereavement much worse...
One of the very best poems I read lately, congratulations and thank you for sharing.
I didn't read the comments until I had decided to award 10 for this piece. It was missed last week, however I didn't judge last week due to illness. I agree with Hellon. This is worthy of the front page.
What goes in its favor is the lack of nominated poems this week so it stands a good chance of being picked by another judge as well as myself. Some of the more experienced poets on this site should be using their nominations more. (I am also guilty of this) It is difficult to judge when a vast majority of the poems are very similar. I can't really go into more detail.
This poem stood out to me.
Why a 10?
I love a poem that you can read and imagine yourself being in that scenario. I love the simplicity of using dough, I love the real sense of loss towards the end. It left a lasting impression with me as all good poems should. 10 points.
Another remaining weekly contest comment for you. ;)
"Play-dough is certainly an unique object to be associated with loss, and gives a strong personal character to this poem. My favourite line must be one of the simplest: "It's always the little moments. I suspect is always will be.", for that thought represents a very significant moment of reflection to me which kick-starts the emotional rollercoaster that follows afterwards. At times I thought the writing-style a bit too wordy to digest, I think some phrases could've been shorter, but the emotional gestures and thoughts that are weaved throughout the poem certainly pulled me through. All the things that happen with clay: the shaping, the imprints, it's all so cleverly used in this poem."