The enclosed haven of the stairway bounced around the sound of laughter; laughter at the shared realisation that they had averted Hemingway's crisis of the unused baby shoes. They each held one and climbed while their faces shook free of the wrinkles from the smiles. They would never admit it to each other -- not even from the bosom of the darkest depths that they would sometimes sink to in unison -- but the true horror was not the anticipation of a non-existent child. No, it was that the flower grew so fast that they could not grasp it, and all they held was a banister in one hand and the past in the other, and they did not know who they would be nurturing tomorrow.
The first line seems reversed... it's like it should be the sound bouncing about the the stairway otherwise there's this sense of a flying stairway and that's rather surreal. Perhaps you're going for that? The rest is very good though. A good portion of life spent nurturing children and then they leave and then what?
Hmmm. First line was a doozy. But, after I got past that (with a little bit of thought), I realized that this is one of those poems that, once deciphered, holds more meaning than most poets can construe in all of their works put together.
I have no idea what "Hemingway's crisis" is or refers to. Sorry about that, can't offer any opinion there.
Before I go any further, please realize that I'm not a very good poet. I'm rather more of a storyteller, so it's hard to articulate a sufficient review for poetry, but I'll try my best.
This seems to be about...infertility? A couple that perhaps conceived a baby, but then it was lost...so now they're adopting? They were afraid that they would never have a child to raise, but now they're adopting, yet they're afraid because they won't be as connected to this child as they would be to their own?
I'm sorry if this interpretation is miles away from the actual meaning. I suppose no one takes a poem in the same way. I'm probably off on the true meaning, so if you please, could you tell me?
Anyway. Before I get off topic and began to ramble (it happens...quite often) I'll tell you that you're an amazing poet (unlike myself) and I apologize for being a terrible reviewer of poetry. Fantastic job, nonetheless!
Heh -- your false modesty affects me not! This is an excellent review -- you read the poem, engaged .. read moreHeh -- your false modesty affects me not! This is an excellent review -- you read the poem, engaged with it fully, attempted to verbalise it in order to show me how readers respond to the work that I might improve it (e.g. the difficulties in the first line, also mentioned by UfoAuthor below).
That is an excellent review.
I can see how you could take this as being about adoption, due to the last line. That observation makes this a whole new poem to me.
The 'intended' meaning (not that this counts for anything unless you ruin the poem with a roadmap -- something I would never do unless my poem was actually a list of whimsical instructions for operating an industrial vehicle) is based off the 'Hemingway' reference. I shall quote his* story in full:
"For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”
* probably didn't write it, see --
http://www.slate.com/blogs/browbeat/2013/01/31/for_sale_baby_shoes_never_worn_hemingway_probably_did_not_write_the_famous.html
11 Years Ago
Ah...probably should look that up and then come back to your poem.
11 Years Ago
REPOSTED AS I'VE MANAGED TO BREAK THE BOX
Heh -- your false modesty affects me not! Thi.. read moreREPOSTED AS I'VE MANAGED TO BREAK THE BOX
Heh -- your false modesty affects me not! This is an excellent review -- you read the poem, engaged with it fully, attempted to verbalise it in order to show me how readers respond to the work that I might improve it (e.g. the difficulties in the first line, also mentioned by UfoAuthor below).
That is an excellent review.
I can see how you could take this as being about adoption, due to the last line. That observation makes this a whole new poem to me.
The 'intended' meaning (not that this counts for anything unless you ruin the poem with a roadmap -- something I would never do unless my poem was actually a list of whimsical instructions for operating an industrial vehicle) is based off the 'Hemingway' reference. I shall quote his* story in full:
"For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”
* probably didn't write it, see --
http://goo.gl/Bmnb3
The first line seems reversed... it's like it should be the sound bouncing about the the stairway otherwise there's this sense of a flying stairway and that's rather surreal. Perhaps you're going for that? The rest is very good though. A good portion of life spent nurturing children and then they leave and then what?
Signed up to the Pledge to Civil Conduct in Discourse on Writer's Cafe: please challenge me if you think I am breaking either the letter or the spirit of the rules.
I try to review well myself (see.. more..