Mystery and Melancholy of My Street.
By keleph
Mon, 17 Mar 2008
- 2299 reads
5 comments
I flit like a ghost through
those greyest of roads.
My shoes stumble over
silent empty slits in the path.
Trepident steps are mirrored by the hollow
clanking of a hammer,
miles away.
A car crashes into the still air,
feet from me.
Then the lifeless squeal of
ice cream draws only screams of death from
the 'ready - dead children on the
road.
When I happen upon an
eerie grotto, where
sleeps a chipped statue of a
childless virgin,
in blue.
She tenders no guidance,
for I am not lost.
But friends on this path are few.
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Comments
I do like this. It has some
Permalink Submitted by onemorething on
I do like this. It has some good lines. I like the last stanza, I like chunks of it, I like the structure of it. It needs editing though and a bit of development - eg, 'greyest of roads'...something other than grey in a poem like this? I don't like 'eerie grotto'...it's a bit..well, I don't know..I don't think it belongs in this.
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Is this about coming home
Permalink Submitted by BeamsAndVoids on
Is this about coming home one night after a session(the screaming undead kids made me think so).
The first time Wolfe Tone has ever been represented in a poem, just don't tell any of them, they won't be best pleased.
There should be something about a boot in this, maybe you see it and then it just goes away, it would really add to it! :)
Nice poem though, freakyish, dark.
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I didn't mean the sentiment
Permalink Submitted by onemorething on
I didn't mean the sentiment needed editing or what it was about, I meant the way it was expressed in one or two of words used. Still, it's all subjective anyway...You're welcome re comments, it's good when people do and I like it when people make suggestions about mine, I don't always take their advice, but it's nice to get feedback!
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