Mr. S

Mr. S

A Poem by Effy
"

You know who you are

"

Mr sandcastle,

your walls can’t start crumbling now

I wet you with my lips

I patted you down

I looked in to your eyes of the clearest blue

And then I confessed my love to you.

Mr Sandcastle,

The tide can’t wash you away

I need you by my side

I just need you to stay

But you were placed here to break out of the mould

Not to conform and do as you’re told.

 

Mr Sandcastle,

 

I helped to build you up

 

To fill in the cracks when times get tough

 

So please don't forget me and remember that day

 

When we watched the sun set over the bay.

© 2011 Effy


Author's Note

Effy
This poem means a lot to me, so I would be very grateful for all of your comments and thoughts.

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Featured Review

Usually I should remember upon the smell of a certain spice that marked the rice that once in a far forgotten eating place in a far distant country, or upon the occasion of the crepitation of burning rice grains in the bottom of a saucepan that we left the time slip without tending.

I guess I've always put my sensations in guard, and I wanted my love safe within walls that I could touch. So whenever, for whatever reason I wanted it to depart, I would open the gate of the jail and send the dogs to chase love out.

Maybe it is difficult for a realist like myself to imagine anyone keeping his ideal picture within a castle of sand; a dream that vanishes when you wake up. But still my cruel standards have not advanced yet to deprive me of my memories. Yes, I also built castles of sand when I was young.

I built castles that crumbled as the wind dried their sides and my hands where not to the aid and support; they collapsed before my eyes.

I built castles that the tides washed away, and my only response was to go from and watch the water take my love with it as though it was particles of sand.

I built castles but I did not watch for the cracks; the only thing I cared for was to get what I wanted. I wanted my love to be the way that I liked it to be. So it came down, and before my eyes it became a meaningless heap of sand.

Sand. It is only sand that I can see now when I look back at those old days. But with time, I taught myself to forget that. Sometimes, I admit, the sand gets into my mouth while I'm chewing on some of my substantial-spicy if you like-memories of loves plenty that I had. I try to forget. But a heart never becomes as hard as the stone of which this statue and this edgeless castle is made from.

Years have passed and with time I became tougher. But still there is something like a little flame that wants to be remembered now and then. Whenever I see a sandcastle-or read a poem, which is like a picture just the same-I do remember a one Sandcastle who once brought light to my heart. And I understand that by walking away from that light I only turned my life cold.

Now my poems come out cold as well, but with a little glimpse of hope that by remembering looks at me, whenever the sun sets in the horizon. A poet sits alone in a strange restaurant, in his old age, and watches the vapours rise from the dish that sits there on the table. He looks the rice with tearful eyes.

--I would like to add a few points regarding what I saw in your poem. Firstly, it is a beautiful poem. Then, I must point out your use of the sandcastle as an image, an idea and a symbol in a skillful way that explores most of the possible aspects of the word and brings them in a unity and combination in brilliant synthesis. The image of a sandcastle that disappears as the waves wash it away is fragile in substance though it's memory is more lasting than a castle made of stone at times. The idea thus of memories of a love that comes to an end one day but continues to be remembered is strengthened by the prominent imagery of the beach, the sand, the blue, the sun and all the other details. Out of this combination of idea and imagery comes the loved one, the beloved or who the sandcastle symbolises. And since Mr S is also synonymous with the idea of love-which is the love castle-the picture shifts constantly from sand to the beloved and to the relationship which marked the love between the speaker and Mr S. Equally, the shapability-the ability to be forged, shaped or moulded-is taken from the sand and attributed to a certain aspect that this ideal love must have had. Not to fit in ready plastic moulds that children plainly play with in the beach, since the love couldn't have been moulded in solid shapes. That marks a significant difference between stone and sand in regard to love.

Finally, the poem ends with an emphasised request, that in which the speaker by citing another image, on the name of the sun they watched set over the bay, the speaker asks the beloved-who is being remembered-to remember in return and never forget.

Technically, I think it is a perfect poem. The tone of the voice, the language it utilises, is clear for the reader to picture it in person just as well. The feeling is readable in every vibration that comes with every word that flows with the lyrics of this poem. It is sincere. And with regard to the feeling, I believe warm is the opposite of cold, or almost the opposite, I must say!




Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

Usually I should remember upon the smell of a certain spice that marked the rice that once in a far forgotten eating place in a far distant country, or upon the occasion of the crepitation of burning rice grains in the bottom of a saucepan that we left the time slip without tending.

I guess I've always put my sensations in guard, and I wanted my love safe within walls that I could touch. So whenever, for whatever reason I wanted it to depart, I would open the gate of the jail and send the dogs to chase love out.

Maybe it is difficult for a realist like myself to imagine anyone keeping his ideal picture within a castle of sand; a dream that vanishes when you wake up. But still my cruel standards have not advanced yet to deprive me of my memories. Yes, I also built castles of sand when I was young.

I built castles that crumbled as the wind dried their sides and my hands where not to the aid and support; they collapsed before my eyes.

I built castles that the tides washed away, and my only response was to go from and watch the water take my love with it as though it was particles of sand.

I built castles but I did not watch for the cracks; the only thing I cared for was to get what I wanted. I wanted my love to be the way that I liked it to be. So it came down, and before my eyes it became a meaningless heap of sand.

Sand. It is only sand that I can see now when I look back at those old days. But with time, I taught myself to forget that. Sometimes, I admit, the sand gets into my mouth while I'm chewing on some of my substantial-spicy if you like-memories of loves plenty that I had. I try to forget. But a heart never becomes as hard as the stone of which this statue and this edgeless castle is made from.

Years have passed and with time I became tougher. But still there is something like a little flame that wants to be remembered now and then. Whenever I see a sandcastle-or read a poem, which is like a picture just the same-I do remember a one Sandcastle who once brought light to my heart. And I understand that by walking away from that light I only turned my life cold.

Now my poems come out cold as well, but with a little glimpse of hope that by remembering looks at me, whenever the sun sets in the horizon. A poet sits alone in a strange restaurant, in his old age, and watches the vapours rise from the dish that sits there on the table. He looks the rice with tearful eyes.

--I would like to add a few points regarding what I saw in your poem. Firstly, it is a beautiful poem. Then, I must point out your use of the sandcastle as an image, an idea and a symbol in a skillful way that explores most of the possible aspects of the word and brings them in a unity and combination in brilliant synthesis. The image of a sandcastle that disappears as the waves wash it away is fragile in substance though it's memory is more lasting than a castle made of stone at times. The idea thus of memories of a love that comes to an end one day but continues to be remembered is strengthened by the prominent imagery of the beach, the sand, the blue, the sun and all the other details. Out of this combination of idea and imagery comes the loved one, the beloved or who the sandcastle symbolises. And since Mr S is also synonymous with the idea of love-which is the love castle-the picture shifts constantly from sand to the beloved and to the relationship which marked the love between the speaker and Mr S. Equally, the shapability-the ability to be forged, shaped or moulded-is taken from the sand and attributed to a certain aspect that this ideal love must have had. Not to fit in ready plastic moulds that children plainly play with in the beach, since the love couldn't have been moulded in solid shapes. That marks a significant difference between stone and sand in regard to love.

Finally, the poem ends with an emphasised request, that in which the speaker by citing another image, on the name of the sun they watched set over the bay, the speaker asks the beloved-who is being remembered-to remember in return and never forget.

Technically, I think it is a perfect poem. The tone of the voice, the language it utilises, is clear for the reader to picture it in person just as well. The feeling is readable in every vibration that comes with every word that flows with the lyrics of this poem. It is sincere. And with regard to the feeling, I believe warm is the opposite of cold, or almost the opposite, I must say!




Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Mmm... really love your use of metaphor here.

Consistently, I love your romantic nature.

Posted 10 Years Ago


I actually enjoyed this.
You have talent, something most people seem to be lacking.

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

i love the poem and the meaning behind it good job:)


Posted 10 Years Ago


Truly this is a very nice poem, excellent write:)

Posted 10 Years Ago


This poem is very beautiful:) I love the metaphor, great write! Lovely

Posted 10 Years Ago


It's so beautiful, one of the best poems I ever read!!! :D

Posted 10 Years Ago


This is wonderful! I love the metaphor of the sandcastle.

Posted 10 Years Ago


We stand in a bittersweet moment reading the eloquence of your words... the looking back... yesterdays remembered... and glance into the morrow... the longing... A rich, emotional song...

Posted 10 Years Ago


Amazing poem!! I loved the idea behind the poem and how you presented it (as a sandcastle). Really heartfelt poem and I think it was an amazing read :)

Posted 10 Years Ago



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Added on December 4, 2011
Last Updated on December 4, 2011
Tags: love, sea, beach, sandcastle, loss, memories

Author

Effy
Effy

United Kingdom



About
Hey, I'm just an average 18 year old English student looking for a bit of inspiration! Writing is my passion and has always been my way of expressing myself.. My other loves are music and the rain. .. more..

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