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ziad
Junior Member

since 2009-05-23

Posts 15
London, England

0 posted 2009-05-23 03:03 PM

Hi guys, i'm not really big on introductions but here it goes.

I'm 16 from London, my father is a poet, but unfortunatly i don't ever think i'll be as good as he is. I thought i would join because this seems like a really friendly forum.

The first poem is about my mother, who past away 7 years ago. I haven't named it yet:

A sun-touched stone, lay in wait,
for you have not seen light
in seven years.

The land stood still, and forests froze.
And water turned to soot and the sky into mud.
Water fell, from a spilling glass. But my eyes clasped
the dry sand, of your homeland.

He drew a painting. Of you.
But they hid the board, and I?
Shunned the placatory oils, and your smile.
So that for years you face
the darkened plastic, of our cheap house.
For these years, we would not cry, but remain,
spilling glasses. And facing the table,
so we eat, and talk, and turn away from your blackened corner
and spill water and laugh.

A tulip rest shut, in your hands,
held by a smile. And it is that smile that turned
a jade valley black. And a mountain to ashes,
as each passing cloud
gave water to the black rock. Begging for stillicide.
But who held open, her urn? Was it peace?

And you stand waiting, below the eaves
of London flats. Bestowing the ash
and soot, and mud and the saddened brickwork
of derelict chimneys. You take my glass,
and pour into it, water. Cold. And you smile.

The second is about the bus that i take to school... i'm yet to write about the evening.

46:

Morning:

A flicker of morning
lays in the yonder, beyond
those glass mountaintops and behind
tint, speckled plastic windows.
I sit, on the other side
coveting the mellow nostalgia
green bearing dirt marks leave
on plastic sheaths.
A filter; separating reality from
my lost childhood, of nineties slogans
and pastel shades. Serving
a gateway to a glorified ghetto
that safeguards my memories from knife attacks.

The seats age with each spill
of early morning fizzy drink
and hardened gum. Yet the moving
pace of tenuous wheels, carries the still lives
of ethnic optimists. Red
handles and teenage mothers,
fight the tracks left by mobile phones
and abusive uniforms.

Parallel to disaster, and
in full cling of passing migraines…
school bags rest on a feet of
comforting steel. Checkered ties,
on walking suits. They enter
the tragic mess, of beaten down
workers and a pale lethargic nun.
She is praying for the children,
on a moving dashboard – sailing past
an urban fathom – this glorious morning.
Afternoon:

Silence is stripped,
once again. This afternoon,
what bonds hold over ill temperament?
What sky, cries a smoldering wave
of greenhouse gasses?

My positive ethos turns a grey,
Melting with the cumbersome folly
of my hallucinations.
The floating briefcases, sit, stacked
high above these common men.
What bonds hold over their ill temperament?
The divide is set, already drawn between the slabs
that we rest our feet on. Each line, of class,
allocates our standing,
on this worn bus stop
as we wait
for each next strike
of the digital clock.

[This message has been edited by ziad (05-25-2009 01:25 PM).]

latearrival
Member Ascendant

since 2003-03-21

Posts 5499
Florida

1 posted 2009-05-23 03:20 PM

Welcome to PIP,ziad

Sad to have to lay your mom to rest at so young an age.

You will be as good a poet as your dad from what I read to day. keep writing.

latearrival

moonbeam

Member Elite

since 2005-12-24

Posts 2356

2 posted 2009-05-23 04:52 PM

16? and writing like this, phenomenal.

Welcome to PiP.

Billie Cullimore
Member

since 2009-03-27

Posts 315

3 posted 2009-05-23 05:00 PM

Welcome to PIP you have a good start. It does us good to put our heart into words. Thanks for sharing.

Billie C.

ziad
Junior Member

since 2009-05-23

Posts 15
London, England

4 posted 2009-05-23 05:01 PM

Thanks, I try my best. Although reading back on the first poem... i'm not to keen on it.

If anyone has any suggestions or contructive criticism that would be great

.

ziad
Junior Member

since 2009-05-23

Posts 15
London, England

5 posted 2009-05-23 05:04 PM

oh, i also need to point out i wrote it around a year ago.

Earth Angel
Member Empyrean

since 2002-08-27

Posts 40215
Realms of Light

6 posted 2009-05-23 05:18 PM

Your father may be a poet ~ but so is his son!
The acorn did not fall far from the oak tree!

Vividly descriptive writing of emotions and imagery! You truly have a tremendous amount of talent ~ and you're only 16!!!

I'm sorry that you lost your Mom. ~ Espcially when you were so young. I was near moved to tears as I read along.

Giving you a warm, welcoming, pip hug,

Earth Angel

moonbeam

Member Elite

since 2005-12-24

Posts 2356

7 posted 2009-05-23 05:55 PM

Ziad, if you want constructive criticism you need to change the critique flag in your profile to "Yes". Members here are not permitted to critique poems while the flag is set to "No"; and the default is "No".

If you need help doing this just ask. Anyone will be happy to show you how to change it.

ziad
Junior Member

since 2009-05-23

Posts 15
London, England

8 posted 2009-05-23 06:36 PM

thanks... all done now.

SlowlyFallAway
Member

since 2008-08-29

Posts 279
North Carolina

9 posted 2009-05-23 08:09 PM

"...as we wait for each next strike of the digital clock"

I love being forced to interpret meanings that aren't so obvious.

Good write.

Midnitesun

Member Empyrean

since 2001-05-18

Posts 28647
Gaia

10 posted 2009-05-23 09:05 PM

You have some intense imagery, though sometimes confusing. After a second reading of any awkward lines, my thoughts are that you should definitely keep a journal handy and let the pen flow with your thoughts...nonstop. Editing comes last, after you've got it all out of your heart and mind.
You have much talent that can only blossom with time. It must run in the family.

I'm sorry about your mom, you must miss her terribly.
Thank you for sharing these heart writes.
Welcome to Pips.

ziad
Junior Member

since 2009-05-23

Posts 15
London, England

11 posted 2009-05-23 10:02 PM

thank you so much for your words... i'm just wondering... are you talking about the first poem or the second? and which lines are you talking about? so i can go back and change some things.

Thanks

Ziad

Sunshine

Administrator

Member Empyrean

since 1999-06-25

Posts 63354
Listening to every heart

12 posted 2009-05-24 11:39 AM

Welcome to PiP, Ziad. Regarding your recent email, please check your mail for a response.

Looking forward to reading more of your work.

" It matters not this distance now " Excerpt, Yesterday's Love
~*~
KRJ

Margherita
Member Seraphic

since 2003-02-08

Posts 22236
Eternity

13 posted 2009-05-24 12:35 PM

Welcome to Pip, dear Ziad.

First thing to avoid is the comparison with your Father's poetry. You have your own unique style and you show with these first contributions that you love words and they love you.

Sorry for your loss. Too soon for a Mom to go! Your poem honors her beautifully.

Love,
Margherita

TinaTrivett
Senior Member

since 2006-07-15

Posts 569

14 posted 2009-05-24 02:07 PM

I like them both. You are very talented.

Greeneyes

Member Rara Avis

since 2000-09-09

Posts 9903
In Your Poetic Mind

15 posted 2009-05-25 01:13 PM

check your email pls

Magnus

Member Laureate

since 2001-10-10

Posts 14135
South Carolina, USA

16 posted 2009-05-25 06:23 PM

I agree with Midnitesun about keeping a
journal...much easier to remember really
captivating or unique words, thoughts.

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