The weight against your neck
Jangles like the rhythm of a
Heartbeat in a chest;
A sound that you remember from
A time when you still loved.
A box of roses slipped
Under your door, petals
Wilting, shriveling as
You left them there
Dehydrating in the sun.
They are nothing now.
Love is nothing now;
You have no time for it
Or for its inevitable end.
But your heart weeps quietly and
Aches for another time,
Deep within sheltered wooden cage
You placed it in long ago.
And your necklaces still hang,
If only out of habit never broken,
A reminder, jangling,
Of what it was to love.















Comments
My issue with the jangling is more that "jangling" connotes a disordered, uneven and very fast, high pitched noise. A heartbeat is almost the opposite of this.
Few things you might consider, if you want critique:
Your rhythm feels a little bit uneven at points, especially since you actually mention rhythm in the poem. The last line of each stanza tends to be longer than all the other lines. This might have been intentional; I don't know, but it almost unbalances the poem.
"Jangles" doesn't sound much like a heartbeat... it sounds a little bit strange.
Also calling "a heartbeat in a chest" sounds a little strange. "The heartbeat in your chest"?
Just things to think about. Don't change anything if you like it the way it is.
Looking at it again, I see your points. The uneven rhythm was not deliberate, and I'll see if I have a chance to look at that more closely - as a junior in college and a chemistry major, I don't have much free time!
Thank you for pointing out the "a chest", too - I think I will change it to "yours"!
And the rhythm was meant to be more the rhythm of the jangling more than the jangle itself... Hm.
Thank you very much for taking the time to leave a nice critique!
--
~ Lady Lia
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