| Simpsons Marathon
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EdwardDurden
| The wall was cold as I leaned my hand up against it. | 1 |
I raised my leg to remove my Converse, my long hair falling over my face. | 2 |
I felt the cold waltz through my veins as my bare foot touched the tile floor. | 3 |
I heard the sound of the TV turn on in the next room as I bent down to remove my other shoe. | 4 |
I reached to the end of my shirt, black, holed, and expressing my fondness for Kurt Cobain, and felt an odd hunger, increasing as I pulled off the shirt, revealing my red bra my boyfriend had bought for me. | 5 |
Some change clanged to the ground from the skirt I had started to remove. | 6 |
The hotel cashier had run out of small bills. | 7 |
My black skirt slid off my waist smoothly, gallantly, down to the floor. | 8 |
Feeling the cold penetrate my skin, I stepped onto the shirt and skirt. | 9 |
Heard a shy cough a little distance away. | 10 |
A car started honking outside, gently, gently, pulling down my thong. | 11 |
I heard a sound behind me, the sound of skin on the tile floor. | 12 |
He stepped forward. | 13 |
I knew he was naked. | 14 |
He stepped, slowly...cautiously. | 15 |
He was nervous. | 16 |
I felt his hand on my shoulder, shaking ever so softly. | 17 |
Taking in a deep breath, I smoothly turned around to see a mildly red face. | 18 |
I loved him and he loved me, thought life and it's never enough. | 19 |
The cold floor felt my thoughtful steps and I closed the gap between us. | 20 |
I put my arms around his neck and he wrapped his around me. | 21 |
While I felt his steady breathing on my shoulders, I felt him slowly backing away till he pull his face back and looked at me with innocent eyes. | 22 |
His hands still on me, he felt around my back for my final defense. | 23 |
He unhooked my final shackle. | 24 |
He didn't look at them, but instead looked into my eyes, held my hand and walked me into the bedroom, where we laid down on the bed, held each other close, and watched the Simpsons Marathon. | 25 |
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13 Dec 04 |
Rated 3.5 (5.8) by 2 users.
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(define the words in this poem)
(80 more poems by this author)
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Comments:
all i can say is:
a perfect example of telling rather than showing.
absolutely no feeling that i could devise.
although i'm a cold cold soul.
--peanut
— unknown
I love it... fucking brilliant! Great stuff!
— CrimsonStorm
Amazing title. Blew me away.
— wendz
---zzzzz{snort}ZZZZZZZzzzzzZZzzzz---
— unknown
Sorry fellas, but not everything is life is deep, metaphorical, expressive, or explosive. Sometimes events or feelings in life are plain, and can be explained no other way than the way it is. The event itself is all the power it needs. If you believe that life will always be intruiging and poetic, then I pity you.
— EdwardDurden
Actually, life in itself is deep, metaphorical, expressive, and explosive, making every "little" thing of it potentially one of those things as well.
So guess what. You're wrong.
It is the job of a GOOD poet to be able to explain these, what you term, "plain" experiences in a interesting, enlightening and ORIGINAL way.
Honestly, the title of this poem is "untitled 2" that immediately tells me that you spent very little time on this poem.
Lastly, don't pity me because I'm a growing poet who likes to see all things in their poetic ways. If anything congratulate me! Pity yourself for coming to a poetry workshop, receiving good constructive criticism, and not being able to understand it let alone use it and learn from it.
*sigh* Does it go without saying that this poem is, uh, bad?
— unknown
too many words! pare it down. "waltz", "penetrate", "thoughtful steps", "shackle" is all forced. cut to the important stuff. you could describe him a tiny bit more.
— britta
One of the marks of a good poet is one who can take everyday, ordinary events and turn it into something which can be shared by others, which can instigate emotions and feelings. This one just feels self indulgent and lazy, too many "I"s are repetitive and boring. Subject matter itself is alright, but the way it has been written about isn't that explosive.
— wendz
I understand that this poem is slow and somewhat stale, and wendz is right, there are too many "I"s, i had some trouble with that. but as for anonymous, you are correct when you say, "Actually, life in itself is deep, metaphorical, expressive..." but it is also true that if someone was to take ever little thing in life and twist them all metaphorically and such, then nothing would seem special. If everything was entrapped in "good" poetry, then nobody would write about the mixing of highways over each other, a hundred feet into the air, with cars roaming around like bees. If everything was "poetic" everything would be lost in metaphors. Sometimes to dumb things down a shade amungst the deep expressions of others can make both of them stand out more. Poetry is not, "to be able to explain these, what you term, "plain" experiences in a interesting, enlightening and ORIGINAL way." It's to say anything, about anything, whether happy, sad or anything else in the middle, whether breifly, extensively, straight forward, or hidden beneath mental pictures. I GOOD poet is one who sees the difference and learns to appreciate both.
— EdwardDurden
"held each other close, and watching the Simpsons Marathon."
I think you meant "and began watching the Simpsons Marathon"
or
"and watched the Simpsons Marathon"
either way, something seems to be missing.. just thought I'd point that out, I like it though, 8
— wwjd
How is Bart these days,Is he still living in Springfield or has he finally made his big move to Greenwich Village to hang out with some people who don't look like they're permanantly Jaundiced.
— larrylark
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— EdwardDurden
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