Four walls make gray squares, where we hid
hands on each cemented slab,
where windows rested,
back when the sun was seen.
But then, then came the crack of iron words
as they broke on through the glass,
to strike upon your waiting brow
like the waiting warrior's fist.
So the highrises become a beautiful trap
to hide an aching soul from the world.
To become who you would never be
if it hadn't been for him.
So I stand in the rain
throwing stones at your door,
hoping to catch your attention
and break this Manhattan chill.
Author notes
Well over 40 words, but, whatever. Drop the poem from the contest if you like.
Written while listening to Thrice's, "Night Diving"...the two go well together, methinks.
-Thefallout
A contest entry
- 30-40 words of Brilliance #22 by AutumnGypsy.
550 points, ended November 2, 2008, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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This would surely have been gold in this contest had it not been well over the 40 word limit. Sorry to have to leave this out of the awards. Best to you in the contest
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Fantastic imagery
and Thrice is an awesome band. It's easy to be able to find inspiration from them. They're amazing.
Great poem
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