With shoe cast eyes
buried in inaccuracies of leather life lines,
and no cries to shatter walkmans sheath,
we traverse those macadam’s,
hoping to slip beneath
all the broken flowers that pray for sun,
as they wilt in the gutters
ignored by everyone.
No time to leave our tunnels
lest we slip between the cracks,
and show hope clinging to an outstretched hand
we have the very thing it lacks.
We see the stubble blurring beauty
as it burns across a once proud face,
a cardboard castle is all that remains
to hide away from our disgrace,
and we heed not the whispers
carried in headlines, window shop displays,
more content to bask in denial,
and wrap ourselves in bubbled protection,
than run the risk of this self-trial,
where a mirror shows how much we’ve sinned
and our eyes scream to our souls,
“you should listen to the wind.”
Author notes
Blowin' In The WInd" Bob Dylan
How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
A contest entry
- Flowers In Her Hair.... by poet2angels.
800 points, ended November 25, 2008, 12 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Honest Critique Requested
Comments
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omg I love this...
I think Dylan would give this a standing ovation
Amazing this is...
Such a tone that would make some hang their heads...
Brilliant
Lynda
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I enjoyed your third stanza the most. An interesting prompt and an excellent poem. :
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