- Non-Erotic Poetry
- I Hate My Job Sometimes
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3 days before Christmas,
There's been an RTC,
A girl's been hit on a crossing,
A van at unknown speed.
A voice on the phone,
"I hit her, I don't know how old she is!"
The voice, belligerent, angry,
Refusing to do as he's bid.
I want to scream,
"You fucktard! Just listen to me you cunt!"
Is she awake, breathing?
He again refuses to see.
The ambulance arrives finally,
And later we are told,
She was dying during that phone call,
She was only 10 years old.
- COMMENTS
ch3mical_r3nt_boyover 8 years agoPlease don't listen to the fucktards who tell you to trim this poem down. Speaking the truth is brutal. For them they are removed and it is easy to give off-handed suggestions, they didn't have to write this. Please just know this is a powerful poem.
buttersover 13 years agoyes, I agree with friday that this would benefit from tightening in places but the heart of it screams out. I understand where this one comes from, and I think you've caught the anger and frustration well. Cleaning this up with a little tinkering will only convey that better. It feels real.
The rhyme scheme/rhythm: there's nothing wrong with using that fairly sing-songy format for a deadly serious subject - if done right it places even greater emphasis on the horror. But it has to be spot on; when it's out of alignment, when the author's already set up an expectation of a certain 'music' for the ear to follow, it can distract. I'll pm you over the weekend re punctuation and where I feel it could be tailored to better effect.
BUT - only minor tinkering required to tidy this one right up. Please keep submitting more!
fridayamover 13 years agobut you could tighten it, make it even harder. V2 could be broken more, last line of V3 is weak. It is worth working at this without the emotion you felt--there is a good poem in there. Ty.
