Locked Out

[walzem]

Fingering the wind
The cold bites my face
I stop and look up
Stare into the sun
Has life lost its fun?

I walk through the roses
The torns claw at my soul
I trip over some roots
Smashed my head against the rocks

I stand and dust myself off
Evaluate the wounds on my face
I see a house beyond a emerald field
I run to it as fast as I can

I peer through the window
I see many people laughing
I try to open the door
It doesnt budge

I start to knock
But it grew to pounding
I sit in front of the door
My knuckles are bleeding

I look back in the window
They are still laughing
I guess they don't want me
I guess I'm locked out in the cold

[walzem]

Any feedback is greatly appreciated, good or bad thanks

Daniel McConnell

[engarde]

I liked the frustration you show in this piece, emerald fields reminded me of Dorothy and Toto, so my mind did drift a little.

You might want to elaborate on how the people in the house ignored you (or maybe they couldn't hear you?). It's unclear in your poem whether they are acting deliberately or not. It may add insight to your poem by elaborating on their actions, for example: are they at a party? Is it an elite event? Why aren't you invited?

You might also consider changing your seasons, roses in bloom and emerald fields really sound like spring or summer and not in sync with the cold you are describing. I'm wondering if there are plants that keep their thorns in the winter, you may want to check into that, it's a good line.

[Maryann22]

nice job