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What do you think of this poem I wrote? Please answer!

	Gift Discussion Home -> Father's Day

Author Message -R00PA* Yahoo User Posted: Wed Aug 06, 2008 10:36 pm    Post subject: What do you think of this poem I wrote? Please answer! “The Swing Set”I see myself sitting on the swing in the backyard,letting my maroon-painted toes slightly graze the ground,my crimped black hair, cascading onto my shoulders.It was a summer night.I remember the rusty old swing set.I had received it as a gift at my fifth grade birthday party;my mom had servedlittle chocolate cookies topped with pink sprinkles.The lonely brown bench.I had spent hourslying supineunder the sun,reading Jane Austen’s classic works.The burgeoning apple tree.My father and I had spentan entire day planting it.I was nine and vivacious; he was old and scruffy.We dug and watered and sweat,and then we drank pink lemonade.My past influences me, creates me.I have regretted, learned, and loved.My memories have chiseled a pathwaythat somehow leads straightto my present.I tell myself, overand over again.It’s just a picture…just a picture.But somehow, I really am sitting on a swing at the park…holding Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice,a glass of pink lemonade,and little chocolate cookies topped with pink sprinkles…one summer night.If something sounds awkward, or certain parts sound better than others, let me know and give me specific information!Suggestions for improvement would be great Back to top barry_jennings@sbcglobal. Yahoo User Posted: Wed Aug 06, 2008 10:46 pm    Post subject: you wrote a story, not a poem. granted it's a poetic story, but a story nonetheless. i wouldn't change a thing. it's your story, your memory, who am I to alter the meaning?“The Swing Set”I see myself sitting on the swing in the backyard,letting my maroon painted toes slightly graze the ground,my crimped black hair, cascading onto my shoulders. It was a summer night. I remember the rusty old swing set.I had received it as a gift at my fifth grade birthday party;my mom had served little chocolate cookies topped with pink sprinkles.The lonely brown bench.I had spent hourslying supineunder the sun, reading Jane Austen’s classic works. The burgeoning apple tree.My father and I had spent an entire day planting it. I was nine and vivacious; he was old and scruffy. We dug and watered and sweat, and then we drank pink lemonade.My past influences me, creates me. I have regretted, learned, and loved. My memories have chiseled a pathway that somehow leads straight to my present. I tell myself, over and over again. It’s just a picture…just a picture.But somehow, I really am sitting on a swing at the park…holding Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, a glass of pink lemonade, and little chocolate cookies topped with pink sprinkles… one summer night. Back to top Peenocle Yahoo User Posted: Wed Aug 06, 2008 10:49 pm    Post subject: I read this to my boyfriend and he was chuckling here and there.Commented, "Someone knows how to use a thesaurus!"I guess it entertained us, but not in the way it was intended to. Back to top Qyn Yahoo User Posted: Wed Aug 06, 2008 11:08 pm    Post subject: Superb. I love your poetry. I think you are really talented. I wrote one called spin set: The world turning,And like the sun set,It's spinning.Is my sun setting ,Or my spinning world reeling,Why is the sun locked world turning so?The same sun following the same world,Though are my roles changing,The world's position?Rotating from escape,Round and around the mulberry bush,And there lieThoughtless. Back to top

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