Sunday, June 22, 2008

another poem for alleyways

That walk ended in familiarity

(A cigarette for you madam?)

We entered the entrails

of the city, here

the narrow alleyways

clasp close the vinyl records

of yesteryears.


Traipsing

over cobblestones

in this summer heat,

all I wanted

was vocabulary.


Soon, I’d hunger

for apt verses

to lock in such an afternoon.

(And I needed a bit of rhyme

for lines one could sing.)


I have stopped penning

poetry, you know.

Everytime I write

I peel you apart.

Naked outlandish eyes

skim through you

with every ink scrawl.


Yet, one must make

some space

to hold in the last hours

of daylight.

5 comments:

Guitar George said...

In the beginning there was the word,
Bare and minimalist
Echoing a thought.
Maybe the thought will fade away
Like they generally do,
lost among the myriad of other thoughts.
the word will still remain.....

The Mad Girl said...

These are every poet's words. Me likes 'em and feels 'em too.

What's In A Name ? said...

Though I didn't really get the picture the poem tried to convey in the first two stanzas,......I liked these two most
"I have stopped penning

poetry, you know.

Everytime I write

I peel you apart.

Naked outlandish eyes

skim through you

with every ink scrawl.


Yet, one must make

some space

to hold in the last hours

of daylight."

Saturnalia's Offspring said...

Poetry - the most beautiful keepsake simply because of its subjectivity. And rarity.

littleblackstar said...

...when you need to breathe in yesterday all over again. what better keepsake could one ask for? :)