On that Park Bench All Alone

If your single and ever wondered where the person is who makes you whole.

She sits alone on a bench in the park

The sun’s rays dint in her hair most stark

The sound of children playing in the air

Draw her gentle tempered stare

The smell of sweet perfume wafting from her form

A morning ritual now her norm

Thoughts of things that may be in her head

Of places to go she has not tread

Someone somewhere out in the world

Awaits a life not yet unfurled

A union ever fruitful

Producing life now unborn

Awaits a name now unknown

Reviews

[Neha agrawal]

This feels like a moment caught between longing and possibility. So gentle, yet full of promise like something beautiful is just beginning to bloom.

[JayG]

Too often, you're letting the need to rhyme drive the words of the line. For example, the meaning of the word "dint" doesn't track with the rest of the line, and "hair most stark?" What's bleak or bare about her hair? Or...what sharp contrast is there that the reader is aware of?

The thing to remember is that the rhyme is an accent, and rhyming should seem almost accidental. So the reader's focus is on the thought being meaningful as it's read.

There's a LOT to metrical poetry that's not obvious, but is necessary. And a great introduction to it can be found in the excerpt from Stephen Fry's, The Ode Less Traveled, on Amazon. So give it a try.

For non-metric poetry, Mary Oliver's A Poetry Handbook is well worth the time needed to read it.

Sorry my news isn't better, but I thought you might want to know.