Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.
Sand Hill
My empty school down the road
shimmered in the heat waves,
window-glare filtered through grass
not worth bothering to cut.
It won't be long before we're gone,
so let the grass weave between the split rails,
decorate the driveway canyons,
and tickle at our wrists.
Let it hide us and the cracked vinyl siding,
bleached with RoundUp and sun,
from the eyes of Mr. Bass Pro Shop
and his wife Susan.
Maybe the grass will grow so high
when I drive by twelve years later
I won't recognize the fresh carpet
that surrounds the new rose beds.
Only "Sand Hill School Road" at the corner
and the glimmer of my elementary school
against the orange summer sunset will assure me
that I ever lived here at all.
Review Request (Intensity):
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage:
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.
Comments
scribbler
Tue, 2017-10-03 22:36
Hi
I interpret this as being Sandy Hill school seen through the eyes of a survivor of that awful day. A good poem nonetheless.......stan
Rhiannon1010
Wed, 2017-10-04 04:51
Interesting
Do you mean Sandy Hook?
scribbler
Wed, 2017-10-04 09:18
yes
I figured you'd changed the name slightly. But it may well be that I have mass shootings on my mind due to the Los Vegas tragedy
Rhiannon1010
Wed, 2017-10-04 11:10
That may be.
Las Vegas was certainly a tragedy. But my poem is not related to mass shootings.
scribbler
Wed, 2017-10-04 12:09
Stupid me
Now I'll need to reread this with new insight
Eumolpus
Wed, 2017-10-04 18:41
Some thoughts
We cannot help but relate the title to sandy hook and I think you should consider that most readers will assume that even if a coincidence.
I do like the feeling of the poem and the very compelling finish. An interesting take on moving from one stage of life to another
Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings