At the Pound
Short white fur,
Slightly dirty from years of
Work. She sits in
The cage with a tattered
Red bow on her denim
Blue collar.
A yellow nose stands out
Behind metal bars as
Small groups of people
Eye each animal leisurely.
A young girl steps up
To the shiny box and wiggles
Her fingers close to
The fur. An innocent smile
Beaming as she cries in glee,
“Hello, Kitty!”
super cute poem! Some things I would try to work on is line breakage, maybe separating lines making sure the line has some rhyme before moving on to make it sound more "music" like. You did a great job using describing words; slightly dirty, red bow, yellow nose, innocent smile bleaming these all make me picture the cat really well. I understand the setting with the hint of "behind metal bars". And the ending is a perfect place to stop.
ReplyDeleteHi Katherine – First off, I enjoyed reading your poem! You have a strong opening describing what the cat looks like, so I was easily able to imagine it in my mind. Like Rachael pointed out, you use “behind metal bars” and also “the shiny box” to let us know where the setting is, in a pound. I have a couple of suggestions that I think would help make your poem even better than it already is. First, I think your poem has a lot of potential for sensory imagery for describing the pound. What does it smell like? How does the cat feel (physically)? This can also lead you to using more figurative language and forming metaphors or similes for how the fur might be feel or the smell. Also, maybe you can try to make the emotion/tone more obvious. I wasn’t quite sure in the beginning whether it was a sad poem about the pound or a joyful one. Overall, a great draft with lots of potential! Great job Katherine! :)
ReplyDeleteKatherine,
ReplyDeleteThis poem brought back memories of the last two times I've been to pound. The imagery as Rachael and Sutath have pointed is strong and vivid, though I struggled with the word "work" where cats are involved. ;)
I would like to see you push this further, go past the "fingers close to the fur." The last two times, I remember taking the animals out of the cage, handling them, deciding, and feeling bad for those left behind. My cat Smoky (he already came with a name) had a long graceful, neck, and carried himself with dignity, refined as a professor in tweed. His purr when I held him told me he was the one. Some of the other imagery in the poem could be sharpened, such as "small groups of people..." and I wanted to see you involve more of the senses. Rachael's comments on line breaks also feel right on.
Otherwise, it's all there, a moment rich with emotion, tangible imagery already leading us into it. Well done.