The night rises
to the sound of a baby crying
alone in a garbage can.
The air,
thick with the noise
of cars and gunfire,
smells of rot and Burger King.
The city streets whisper
words of seduction
to lonely old men
seeking companionship
at a price.
The sign on a bar
preaches a neon gospel;
OPEN 'TIL 4AM
OPEN 'TIL 4AM
to those
in need of escape.
In the heart
a church,
doors locked, windows barred,
stands separate
from the pain.
With the dawn
comes sleep for the darkness,
until the world
turns its face away again.
SMG
I really don't even like this poem anymore but it was the first thing that I ever got published. I won the free verse award for the annual writing contest at my college with this piece. As I read it now it seems like silly pretentious crap but I guess we all need to start somewhere.
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5 comments:
It's pretty good, I think. Not so much pretentious as stylistic. It has your signature love affair going on with the beauty under the ugly and how it makes a mix in the big city, and is fairly unburdened with the purple adjectival tendencies of youth. It's not as sardonic or as cynical, quite, but it is as vivid. A good poem for that time in one's life, and it is distinctly your voice. I like it.
i agree, not so much pretentious as it is raw emotion attempting to be stylistic. I dig it. the words always come at a crawl at first, then a swift walk, and then a sprint...you were just crawling at that point. but any movement is good movement
I agree with the above - it's good, well it must be to have won a competition :)
i like how you describe the scene - and it's definitely you, your style of writing in this poem, the observer, the man trying (and managing) to capture the mood of a moment.
not having read this before i very much enjoyed it...however i loved what you said after too...the celebration has really unearthed some gem..cheers pete
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