Blog
Writing in the third person | Arja Salafranca
4 days ago
Do you believe that poetry is primarily self-centred; focused on the emotions of those who write it?
Arja Salafranca is an award-winning poet who has mastered the art of writing in the third person about characters who may or may not look like her. This month, she shared a short, moving third-person poem, ‘Five Pinecones’, with The AVBOB Poetry Project.
Read the poem she shared and discover how powerfully third-person poetic narratives can move us, even if we know very little about the people at their centre.
The poem clearly describes a very deliberate act, a kind of spell or ritual, though at first we do not know what it is about. Then, we realise it is a ritual of parting, though the poem’s speaker is clearly alone. We are told that she is saying goodbye not only to what was but also to what might have been and what never was. With each repetition of “goodbye”, the sense of loss is heightened. Each time we read it, we become more aware of how deeply she was invested in this love.
Next, the poem’s title becomes clear. Popping those five pinecones over the rail of the bridge and watching them disappear is a ritual she has created for saying goodbye to this love but also to an earlier, precious version of herself.
Then comes the crucial insight: “No one sees her do it.” Notice that because she is described from the outside, in the third person, our sense of her aloneness is particularly strong. Only we and Salafranca witness what she is doing. For all we know, she is a figment of the poet’s imagination. But already, what happens to her matters intensely to us.
Can such a simple ritual really help her to let go and move on? The poem asks but does not answer. All we know is that the pinecones “fall into the dark / shaded water.”
Then, just when we think we understand everything, comes the final revelation: “It is three years later. / And no one sees her doing it.” It comes as a shock that so much time has passed since the end of the relationship. In the last line, we are told again that no one sees the speaker as she performs this ritual, which might have to be performed again and again.
But we see her, of course. By writing in the third person, in such fresh, simple language, Salafranca transforms us into witnesses. It hardly matters whether the poem is based on a real experience. What matters is that we have caught a glimpse of someone else’s experience and are moved and changed by it.
In the next few days, write a poem in the third person about a profound experience. Even if it concerns you, write about it as if it happened to someone else.
The annual AVBOB Poetry Competition opens on 1 August 2026 and offers a cash prize of R10 000 in each language category. Visit www.avbobpoetry.co.za for details on how to participate.
Arja Salafranca is an award-winning poet who has mastered the art of writing in the third person about characters who may or may not look like her. This month, she shared a short, moving third-person poem, ‘Five Pinecones’, with The AVBOB Poetry Project.
Read the poem she shared and discover how powerfully third-person poetic narratives can move us, even if we know very little about the people at their centre.
Goodbye to your nephew,
and thank you for showing me baby love.
Goodbye to us.
Goodbye to what might have been.
Goodbye to what never was.
Goodbye my love.
And with those words,
one by one,
she plops the
pinecones over the rail of the bridge,
seeing them disappear in the Klein Jukskei.
No one sees her do it.
And in her mind the bridge will forever be
The Bridge of What Never Was.
Could it be as simple as that,
a ritual, water, river,
grass trees, ducks, hadedas,
weeping willows, and the setting sun’s
purple haze?
The pinecones fall into the dark
shaded water.
It is three years later.
And no one sees her doing it.
and thank you for showing me baby love.
Goodbye to us.
Goodbye to what might have been.
Goodbye to what never was.
Goodbye my love.
And with those words,
one by one,
she plops the
pinecones over the rail of the bridge,
seeing them disappear in the Klein Jukskei.
No one sees her do it.
And in her mind the bridge will forever be
The Bridge of What Never Was.
Could it be as simple as that,
a ritual, water, river,
grass trees, ducks, hadedas,
weeping willows, and the setting sun’s
purple haze?
The pinecones fall into the dark
shaded water.
It is three years later.
And no one sees her doing it.
The poem clearly describes a very deliberate act, a kind of spell or ritual, though at first we do not know what it is about. Then, we realise it is a ritual of parting, though the poem’s speaker is clearly alone. We are told that she is saying goodbye not only to what was but also to what might have been and what never was. With each repetition of “goodbye”, the sense of loss is heightened. Each time we read it, we become more aware of how deeply she was invested in this love.
Next, the poem’s title becomes clear. Popping those five pinecones over the rail of the bridge and watching them disappear is a ritual she has created for saying goodbye to this love but also to an earlier, precious version of herself.
Then comes the crucial insight: “No one sees her do it.” Notice that because she is described from the outside, in the third person, our sense of her aloneness is particularly strong. Only we and Salafranca witness what she is doing. For all we know, she is a figment of the poet’s imagination. But already, what happens to her matters intensely to us.
Can such a simple ritual really help her to let go and move on? The poem asks but does not answer. All we know is that the pinecones “fall into the dark / shaded water.”
Then, just when we think we understand everything, comes the final revelation: “It is three years later. / And no one sees her doing it.” It comes as a shock that so much time has passed since the end of the relationship. In the last line, we are told again that no one sees the speaker as she performs this ritual, which might have to be performed again and again.
But we see her, of course. By writing in the third person, in such fresh, simple language, Salafranca transforms us into witnesses. It hardly matters whether the poem is based on a real experience. What matters is that we have caught a glimpse of someone else’s experience and are moved and changed by it.
In the next few days, write a poem in the third person about a profound experience. Even if it concerns you, write about it as if it happened to someone else.
The annual AVBOB Poetry Competition opens on 1 August 2026 and offers a cash prize of R10 000 in each language category. Visit www.avbobpoetry.co.za for details on how to participate.
