I got my second review today. My pal and bawseman Seun Odukoya
He promised to do this immediately he read the poem and due to his busy schedule, he could not do this on time.
Here’s what he has to say about the poem I Had A Girl
What is poetry? Simply put, poetry is a piece of literary work in which attention is paid to the expression of feelings with the use of rhythm, style and wordplay.
Poetry; in other words, is supposed to be able to take the reader on a journey of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ without doing nothing more than convey ideas. Mere ideas.
Case in point: the above piece.
Written by Derin Gbadebo and published on his blog a couple of weeks ago, ‘I had a girl’ is a sobering look at the regret that usually accompanies hasty decisions in the relationship context.
Take the opening verse – ‘When loneliness my companion be, days be long with shivering cold’ many a reader will almost automatically reach for their pillow or phone, reliving the memory brought to life by those ‘mere’ lines.
The reader is compelled to walk down memory lane with the writer (which is what any piece of poetry worth it’s place should do) as he reveals; bit by bit why he manages to end up speaking in past tense ‘I had a girl’.
By the time the words have led themselves (and the pliable reader) to the 21st line, the reader is stuck between judging the writer and feeling sorry for him; as the lines ‘So now in the confines of my room, As memories, the walls reveal’ explores a double meaning; he’s stuck in his room with no means to escape and he’s stuck with his memories, no way to escape.
This was written on a rainy day – or at least should be read on one of those days when the noise – both internal and external slow down and you realize that you did let someone go, someone who you really did not have to let go. Someone who you probably never knew just what they meant to you.
The only dull edge to this piece is the suggestion of self-pity that seems to permeate the ambience of the reading experience – because even in the midst of his mourning the writer does not let the reader into exactly how he let her go, why he did and so. All he does is share his regret and hope the reader is not smothered under the weight of his desolation.
Still, this is poetry at it’s most powerful – simple words, powerful message. And because every single person; at least folks above the age of twenty five has probably been in those shoes at one point or the other – it makes for a memory.
And what a memory.
PS: I would like comments and more reviews, so go through my work critique robustly and I’ll gladly put it up here… meanwhile, your comments…