He tied his tie, a perfect fit,
Designer suit, with charming wit,
Stepped in his shoes, a shiny hue,
Slipped on his coat, crisp and brand new.
He sauntered on the beaten road,
A dazzling smile which he showed,
He turned the corner, with a flair,
And spun his wrist through silky hair.
As passersby would stop and glance,
Their humble souls within a trance,
From this poised stranger, quite urbane,
Who undoubtedly sipped champagne.
The dusty twilight, moon aglow,
Glimmered as he reached the row,
Of cardboard boxes on the street,
His forlorn neighbors he would greet.
He climbed into an empty crate,
As the heavens turned to slate,
His wild thoughts began to roam,
On this highway he called home.
Author notes
So...this is merely an English assignment that I thought I'd post on here for no reason. Woo hoo.
It's not great, but it was just supposed to reflect the theme of things not always being as they seem.
For example, we read the poem "Richard Cory," in which a man, who seemed to have it all (wealth, good looks, and happiness), comes home to put a bullet in his head.
I sort of twisted the concept. The man, seemingly wealthy and charming, is not ridiculously unhappy (or 19th century Emo), but does, in fact, not own anything except for the clothes on his back. Yet he strolls each day to work, inspiring awe in each person who looks upon him. I can imagine women being wooed on the sidewalk and men wishing they had such luck, although he really lives a spartan life - no home but an empty cardboard box, constantly struggling to get even a bit of food.
So there you have it. I would appreciate any critiques or ways to make it better. Thanks for listening to me ramble.
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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wow
a very good poem, I really liked it
good job Pointe 
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This is really good... again, I am amazed.
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Aww...thanks.
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This reminds me of an O. Henry story entitled "Lost On Dress Parade". It's quite a good read, actually. I enjoy O. Henry's way of manipulating our natural first impressions and coming up with wonderful twists at the end of each story.
'Tis a good poem.
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Wow, great work. Beautifully written and very charming to read. I hope to become as good as you!
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Aww...thanks so much. I'm not good at all, but thank you! I appreciate it. I'd love to read some of your work.
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So pleased i came here to return the favour I may never have read this piece but for that. I really do like this poem I love rhyme so you were on to a winner to start with. I guess we all make judgments by looks and appearance. This poem just goes to show how wrong we can be.There is a face and overcoat we all put on to disguise the real we.A most enjoyable read Thank you so much
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Thank you so, so much!
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I'm checking out I can comment
To The Pointe (index finger, hallux, all?),
"Gentleman on the Corner" is read on a night after I just wrote a little poem about my dad and no this reminds me easily of one of his stories. A couple he rented a room from saved everything for parties with friends on the weekend but skimped otherwise. Maybe not similar but an offshot.
The first stanza has the approach set by some packackage awareness of one more step :
"Designer suit, with charming wit,
Stepped in his shoes, a shiny hue,"
like these won't go drab when with brand new day. Which then helps others get attracted as to a store of something else.
I thought existence was cherished more than the outfit, but by an importance it played a part for :
"He sauntered on the beaten road,
A dazzling smile which he showed"
oh the wallet of emotions can be filled and have unrrelated peaks like when one saves for awhile and we might assume wrongly what's invested in or involved.
The droop around such is a undoubtedly not fearing to know the thoroughness of not missing a moment maybe rather than depending on buying and wasting, but the song of life isn't by costume but what must and can be done...
embarassment is not stronger than observation of what is included for all as a transition maybe :
"As the heavens turned to slate,
His wild thoughts began to roam,
On this highway he called home."
I know the sound to me can be like repeated closings of everyonie's cells sliding open and shut at different times but the rest itself could be sailing. But it itself has guidable reads to come across...
4:03 napped four times today but that ginger spice for one predtctability appatently not some snack got me to the next one before dawn blending in --
~Carolyn
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Thank you, Carolyn! I always enjoy reading your comments.
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OMG, I read that poem! Lol. Anywho, this is a really great piece of work. I think you totally captured the theme that you were trying to get. Keep up the great work. And thanx for being there...you know what I mean.
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It was a pretty interesting poem.
And thanks a bunch!
Oh, and anytime, dear.
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