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May 1, 2009
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Playing with threadbare doll,
Hestia waits
along a dusty path of rubble and dim lights.
The child hums, sweetly,
her own rhythmic fantasy adhered;
absent from the night of gunfire and blood.

High above on waning clouds
the Goddess is weeping;
she reaches for the girl--
the hearth of home is extinguished.
And the threadbare doll
has pleasure as she dances
between little grey pebbles
and the hands of the child.  

Playing with threadbare doll,
Hestia waits
The child will soon see her.
The barefoot child with dirty
dress and dirty face crouched
over the ballroom floor
listening to invisible song.

Child, let me lift your head
and have a look at you.
Look into my ancient eyes,
take comfort in my smile.
Child, let me aid you
to find those you love
and reunite you.

She lifts her head as instructed
lets her doll descend to the ground
Hestia has brought her back
to the night of gunfire and blood.
The sadness inside her roars
whilst her pale face swells red.
Two blue eyes glance to the left.

Picking up her threadbare doll,
blue eyes simmer tears
she runs with anguished cry.

Under crushed wooden beams
Under broken glass and cracked bricks
bloodied burnt bodies lie limp.
the hearth of home is extinguished.
:iconbeccalicious:
UPdated 13/09/09- Just a bit of tweaking and revisiting an old poem I have a fondness for. Probably needs a lot more work.



Did you know in mytholody Hestia never really ventured the world? Maybe this is why.

I know my poetry isn't that great and this time last week I was actually considering stopping writing poetry altogether. This one just seemed to slip out in quiet work time.

Critique welcome.
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:iconxerces:
`Xerces Jul 12, 2010  Professional Artisan Crafter
Such a beautiful piece! Amazing imagery and with such emotional detail too. I love how you've likened the girl with the doll to the goddess :) great job
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:iconbeccalicious:
^Beccalicious Jul 14, 2010  Professional Writer
Thank you very much! I love it when people discover older pieces of work and enjoy them :D
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:iconxerces:
`Xerces Jul 14, 2010  Professional Artisan Crafter
:hug: i can understand that! especially since most of my work is now old :lol:
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:iconpaperdart:
~PaperDart May 17, 2010   Writer
I really like the projection you create from the doll to the child to Hestia. It seems to suggest that the continuum could go on infinitely, with everybody watching somebody and in turn being watched by someone else.

That leads me to think that Hestia's attempt to help the child might be a distraction from a bigger problem, like the child's playing with the doll is a distraction. Neither of them seem to work though; just as the child is brought back to the fighting, Hestia is forced to face the reality of pain when she tries to help the child.

This speculation makes me curious about who the step above Hestia is. When the hearth of the home is extinguished, I think I could be reading that on several levels. It's very interesting.

I feel like this poem is showing us reflections of reality, each one exposing bitterness, but perhaps, beneath that, a little hope too. None of us are alone.

:heart:

The only downside is that occasionally the words didn't strictly fit together in sentences. I'm surely it's at least partially a style issue, but if you ever do decide to revise further, it might be worth thinking about. (For instance, 'blue eyes simmer tears' isn't entirely correct, since 'simmer' is an intransitive verb. The image is lovely in spite of that, but it might be even lovelier revised.)

I enjoyed the description in the poem a lot. You don't tell us a lot, but the strokes you do paint are definitive enough that it's hard not to fill in the gaps. I have a very clear mental picture of this scene. It's certainly well written!

:+fav:
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:iconbeccalicious:
^Beccalicious May 18, 2010  Professional Writer
Thanks for such a thoughtful comment. I have a soft spot for this poem and the fact you drew so much insight makes me feel good about the content. It really does need a good polish soon though! Xxx
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:iconcreativejenn:
`CreativeJenn Jan 1, 2010  Professional Digital Artist
Poor small-minded girl. :( Innocence has died now-a-days.. even a 2-year old has been stabbed with an image of parental fights, molestations, and murder... we try our best to keep them in their happy fantasy.. but conflict arises in the process of doing so.

Still..we can dream forever. Reality will always be here.
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:iconmsklystron:
*msklystron Sep 29, 2009  Professional Digital Artist
I liked this even better on second reading. Playing (fantasy) is an escape mechanism we all have, but are closer to as children. Hestia had to learn this the hard way, I guess.

Very sad and lovely. Don't stop writing poetry. For prose writers it can be a good way to work out ideas with few words.
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:iconundeniably:
This is beautiful......and I adore mythology, so you've won me lol.
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:iconeldestmuse:
Hestia/Vesta is one of my favorite goddesses. In fact, my website is "Vestal Flame" and the first thing on there is the traditional prayer to Vesta.

That said, I loved this poem, not only because Hestia is so oft-ignored, but because it's an incredibly powerful piece that pulled me in and merited an emotional reaction--which is incredible, because I very rarely enjoy poetry at all.

:thumbsup:
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