Chicagoland
discrete Sabine street,
Jazz note,
sleep to empty the mind
roused weakly
irked
just a bit of honest work
to keep the man alive.
oh June
suddenly gone,
brilliant sunshine, walking home,
I should traverse that old black road to Coalton,
north of Elkins, find out,
though I saw them pass away,
one by one,
I did not believe.
Author notes
Written July 24th, 2003
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1 - 12 of 12
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this is good. -
This is not the type of poem built on extravagant ideas and whatnot. Simplicity is used well though, and I certainly appreciate those who can do this. Nice way of telling a personal story without really telling it. Reading this feels like you are showing us an old photo album. Good luck!
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American. mmmm. -
a somewhat literal poem.. with a serious note
now I feel melancholy.... -
a somewhat literal poem.. with a serious note
now I feel melancholy.... -
Well done
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Mmmm ... thought June was a month till I saw title. Still think it's a month. First stanza reminds me of Frank O'Hara. He seems to be a regular denizen of the Lute landscape. Left me with a heavy sense of melancholy this morning. Perhaps the American brilliant sunshine is not too far away from the driving English rain. Suitably obscure, at least to the meagerly educated.
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lovely
oh June
suddenly gone,
brilliant sunshine, walking home,
wets thats cool part of your poem
one by one,
I did not believe
if thats the real so that you have to believe ok
asmiati -
a soul
fighting
for its soul
alone
all gone
who played
and who prayed
now only The Soul
fighting
for its soul
myra
04.10.2003 -
Again something different - no, not at all typical, which is exactly what I look for.
"sleep to empty the mind
roused weakly"
Walking on memories coals, the bitter burn hot under the soles of weary feet. -
Bitter-sweet, yes. Sometimes, it is hard to believe, those we once cared for ( still do, in a way) have gone the way of all things. Your first stanza points out that life goes on though. ~~~Val
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Mmm I love the feeling of this - it's sort of reminiscent and yet current with the hint of a Counting Crows song about it.
It's short but very unusual and bitterseet. Not your typical onsite poem.
Good One
xxx Louise xxx
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