He pulled a tired shirt
over a paper clip spine.
Each curve, each nuance and bump
revealed.
Bony ankles, giving way to cotton hand me down socks and shoes.
Thread bare suspenders, Knotted instead of clipped.
And a bottle of ripple to make the night complete.
Sirens and wails of the street,
his lonely serenade.
Unfiltered camels crumpled and wet,
drying above the bare light bulb.
Tattered shade fly stains speckle the wall in shadow
songs, and historic memories of 1910 honeymooners.
Spooning on that tarnished brass bed.
The curtains long faded, and ripped from rod,lost to memory.
Lost to the bed and thrown out by the maid.
A contest entry
- I WAS ROBBED!!!!!!!! (Invite Only) by ten thousand cicadas.
1800 points, ended April 10, 2008, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Invite Only by ten thousand cicadas.
1600 points, ended April 15, 2008, 6 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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Again, I find myself just swallowed up in your descriptive prowess. You are a master.
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Just stopping by again before judging to say what marvelous description this is! I mean "fly specks"--who thinks of that detail? An truly vivid picture and story you tell.
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You make this guy, a transient, or nearly so, I presume, seem like I know him--like I have followed his demise. I was totally engrossed in his story, and loved the symbolic conclusion. WOW.
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Good prose writing, I like the images created and brought out within this light. cigarettes drying under a light bulb, suspenders knotted not clipped. Wonderfully done. Thanks for sharing
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Thanks very much for taking the time to read and comment here
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This is tells the story of a moment, and quite a grim one it tells, with your images painting poignant pictures in gray colors (save for the lights of the aid vehicles penetrating the room). It leads one to wonder how the individual came to be in this gloomy state, and if he has yet the desire and will to leave it. Excellent work!
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Could be any of us
Had we made the wrong turns; yet who is to say they are not happy, accepting life until the next day. Too bad that MargaretG is too young to remember Ripple and
Camels, they were my first second-hand smoke.
Good job W.B. keep writing......Bob 42
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This is sad for me, how do people choose this - what was worse, that this is better? The images of "tired shirt / over a paper clip spine", and all the rest strip hope from me. What a terrible place.
I looked up Ripple, since I was not sure what it was; it dates the poem since it is not produced any longer. You have several typos - note "unfiltered Camels".
The last line is completely hopeless - some people end this way, but is there something we could do to prevent it? This is a thought provoking piece on society.
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Thank you very much for bringing those typos to my attention
Margaret. I made the corrections. Yes it is a sad state, but nevertheless it happens and his happening somewhere now. Societies lethargy makes it so. thank you for taking the time to read and comment
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