Touched by innocence
By Parson Thru
Fri, 22 Jun 2012
- 1661 reads
13 comments
The cigarette tastes like shit
so I hurl it
into the gutter
unsmoked
unloved
chewing the fat with myself
"If I was a girl
I'd be anorexic
I couldn't be anything else"
Half of me knows why
but is too coy to tell
so I tell it to go to hell
and walk
The kids in the street
are giving free sweets
and smiles
to passers by
"Why?" I ask
They look at me
giggle
and smile again
"Because we've got too many"
they laugh
and up in the sky
the clouds are moved to
call a halt to the rain
As I eat the sweet
the sun shines
and I walk down the street
passing on smiles
stop on the corner
to wave goodbye
and shout
"Thank you"
But they're far too busy
handing out sweets
and smiles to strangers
- Log in to post comments
Comments
So, I decided to look at
Permalink Submitted by ContinuityMistake on
So, I decided to look at your stuff after you commented on my poem and this is really good. I like how the setting is so specific and particular, just walking down the street, something most people give no mind to. Have you ever read the Catcher in the Rye? The protagonist reminded me of Holden.
- Log in to post comments
Quirky - and I do like
Quirky - and I do like quirky so I liked this a lot.
Surprised you haven't read Catcher in the Rye - one for your To Do list, PT!
- Log in to post comments
I like this too!
Permalink Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on
I like this too!
- Log in to post comments
Great stuff, PT;-) Tina
Permalink Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
Great stuff, PT;-)
Tina
- Log in to post comments
Can only echo what has been
Can only echo what has been said, Parson. Enjoyed.
- Log in to post comments
this is great PT... a fine
Permalink Submitted by the unfolding head on
this is great PT... a fine read after breakfast (and any other time of the day!)
ddf
- Log in to post comments
I like this for the feeling
Permalink Submitted by Jack Canada on
I like this for the feeling or the vision rather of small dark coffee houses filled with young beat poets, goatees and berets smoking Gauloises over bitter espresso's listening to... a poem not unlike this one.
- Log in to post comments