I'm sitting on a park bench,
Upper East Side on a cold November morning.
Icy drops of rain like pellets
cut through my skin, down to the bone.
Shivering, I'm reminded of the life I used to lead.
The Park is down below me.
Bare trees I see peek through the buildings,
unadorned branches so much like the thoughts I wear.
Surrounded by a million strangers,
isolation creeps up from the concrete,
as I realize not a soul in this great city
notices me or knows my name,
or even sees me here.
I wonder if the life I left
is still waiting there for me.
I once was loved.
I once was in love.
Could I be again?
Cars rush by, so in a hurry,
like the empty faces glaring out of foggy windows,
all quickly going without even knowing
where or even why.
Cops and criminals and victims
dart through alleys, ballroom dancers,
each essential to the meaning of the others.
Through tired eyes, with stilted sighs,
I look around and notice a young girl drawing near.
Her eyes are scared, dark sullen bruised,
showing need like hunger which drives her depravity.
Dirty fingers scratch at pocked arms
as she asks if am willing.
No, I say and she creeps away,
but not before bumming a cigarette.
With cold regret I watch her go,
and suddenly I realize
I don't belong here.
Something went wrong along the way.
I've wasted days and thrown away
the best life had to offer.
Its not too late.
I'm going home.
Upper East Side on a cold November morning.
Icy drops of rain like pellets
cut through my skin, down to the bone.
Shivering, I'm reminded of the life I used to lead.
The Park is down below me.
Bare trees I see peek through the buildings,
unadorned branches so much like the thoughts I wear.
Surrounded by a million strangers,
isolation creeps up from the concrete,
as I realize not a soul in this great city
notices me or knows my name,
or even sees me here.
I wonder if the life I left
is still waiting there for me.
I once was loved.
I once was in love.
Could I be again?
Cars rush by, so in a hurry,
like the empty faces glaring out of foggy windows,
all quickly going without even knowing
where or even why.
Cops and criminals and victims
dart through alleys, ballroom dancers,
each essential to the meaning of the others.
Through tired eyes, with stilted sighs,
I look around and notice a young girl drawing near.
Her eyes are scared, dark sullen bruised,
showing need like hunger which drives her depravity.
Dirty fingers scratch at pocked arms
as she asks if am willing.
No, I say and she creeps away,
but not before bumming a cigarette.
With cold regret I watch her go,
and suddenly I realize
I don't belong here.
Something went wrong along the way.
I've wasted days and thrown away
the best life had to offer.
Its not too late.
I'm going home.
Author notes
Variation on quote #2 "I want to go home; I just never realized how badly until right now"
A contest entry
- Contest: Lost your muse, tell me about it or anything by michellemybelle.
700 points, ended April 20, 2008, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - I'm in the mood for ANYTHING! by ForeverLastingComa.
550 points, ended April 25, 2008, 25 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Mistakes? by hmmmmmmm.
440 points, ended April 26, 2008, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Feel the Quote by CapturedMoon.
1200 points, ended May 14, 2008, 15 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Starting over by painfully amazing.
875 points, ended May 10, 2008, 31 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Real life Poems. by Christina-is-crazy.
300 points, ended June 18, 2008, 19 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 16 of 16
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Its a great poem, Thanks so much for entering my contest. Good luck
♥ Christina -
I once was loved.
I once was in love.
Could I be again?
ahh thats a question i ask everyday nobody seems to measure up to that one person that i loved before... great write i loved it -
wow. this is really good.. i like the quote. good luck =]
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I love the quote variation.
It's very...
Well, no one else has done it yet.
I'm glad you resubmitted. -
now this is a story. spirls are so easy to swirl into absorbing into .... self absorption. Listening too much to our selves facilitate the little lies of misery. until we notice....
well told
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I want to add this to the finalists list, but you didn't follow the instructions.
You needed to put the quote you chose in the author's comments box.
Sorry.

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I added quote into comments box and resubmitted. Hope that is okay
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Thanks!
This is a great write!! It's exactly what I was hoping to find, I love the way it's so narative and heart felt. Good luck, and I'll kepp you posted!


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i hate feeling lonely, hope you feel better, good luck in my contes =)
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Seems even among millions you can be the only person in the world and lonely as well. You get the impersonal feel from this and the city and sometimes a smile on a familiar doorstep is all one needs to be truly home. Love, c


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ohh, this is a sad poem but it also offers hope. beautifully penned, thanks for sharing.
Keira
--- pink.glitter.hearts -
You have a great title that exemplifies what you have written.
I enjoyed your poem and was able to follow with anticipation
You have a great story and a simple part of life.
Your topic is one of which people must undergo.
“Loneliness” At one point or another.
You created a full story
With a beginning a middle and an end
Your organization was also great and vocabulary choice even better
Superb job I must say
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Superb!
This is a superbly written perceptive of the pain and loneliness of one life's experience in verse. One life, experienced by so many, who are never known. A fine piece of writing to be proud of.

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The title sums up the moment perfectly. Your description of the surroundings and general unsavoury ambience of the place highlight the feelings of growing alienation. One can imagine how an immigrant from a Country that knows community, despite its problems, may feel. The final realisation is short and decisive with a positive conclusion, if only more lost people were able to admit this to themselves, or even had a home to return to.


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Liked the ending of this poem - good that you came to your senses and decided to go back home where you belong. Remember apostrophe in it's. A day in the life of... some are like this.
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Cool. WE learn through our mistakes, the right path, what we miss or took for granted. I love your ending...it is never too late to change or return.
Thanks for your entry and good luck.
blessings,
Michelle
1 - 16 of 16












