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The Man Who Walks

He stopped and stared
at the natural world
as if for the very first time,
noticing his whereabouts.
(Wildlife, light falling
through a glade,
the chance beauty
of thunderclouds
surrounding a car factory,
song of a bird perched
on silent chimney.)
He proceeded carefully
across the bottom
of the quarry,white stones
glowed in unnatural light.
He carried window blinds
rolled into cardboard.
"These will shade me
from the heat of the day
as i tumble through my dreams,
resting between shifts
at the bistro."
He arrived home,
pushing through foliage
that hid his door,
leaned the blinds
against the wall,
noticed shadows
creeping onto his
overgrown garden.
The moon rose above
the wood, the bistro
is closed. Lovers
walk home down
dark paths, distant
laughter fades.

28 Oct 05

Rated 5 (7) by 1 users.
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wan and hopeless.  what is the point, other than to be a descriptive of the commonplace, the all-too-common tableau of 'nothing doing'?  poetry can be more  than a neural depressant.  However, as this genre goes, this item is OK.  No crits on -that- front.
this is not a chill, just a perspective from one other person.  No insult intended.
 — netskyIam

Dear NetskyIam

None taken .I am pleased you took the time to comment on this magical surreal piece redolant with the heavy symbolism of ennui and other assorted bollocks that go to make this a deeply significant comment on our lives and times which stretch out behind and before us in a great sweep of endless futility. Pass me the gin bottle,roll me a joint ,chase me the dragon in a covered cowboy waggon. Take me to the gaming deserts of L.A. so i can bet my pension on whether Liberace will rise from the grave. Throw me a ghoul costume so i can loon about scarin' old grannies.
take me to the bedside of a call girl called Tammy,but before you do that blow my head off with a Wyatt Earp Pea shooter.

Larry dead in the head Lark
 — larrylark

I actually like this a bit.  I like the idea of the man suddenly noticing small details, such as the bird on an empty chimney, the beauty of the thunderclouds.  I have no idea why the window blinds come in, or the rest of this.  

What were you trying for?
 — Isabelle5

You have so many items to choose from here, but you end up choosing nothing, - you end up pulling the blinds down on it all.  Look at all you have:

evolution, objectivism and subjectivism, the unnatural quarry, home and garden.  Everyone loves a quarry, but you refuse to give them their quarry!  And foliage and a secret garden...

Interesting that you are nullifying a lot of great tropes in poetry.  And you even nullify or eradicate the subject of the poem as you don't end with him.

This could be a boilermaker.
 — cynthmala

Dear Isabelle

I'll take you liking it a bit. Hope you are keeping well

Larry curtains Lark

PS I tried to experiment by moving my images into more transient ambiguous mode .I was reading the History Of Japanese Cartoons where a man walks through an urban landscape infused with strange and unexpected juxtapositions.
He seems detached ,alienated from his surroundings and there is a sense of foreboding pervading what started out as an ordinary day.
 — unknown

This prose-poem has been underrated. If you haven't noticed its beauty, by God, read it again. Eloquent. Understatement can be art. In this case, it is. Kudos
 — graceinmtl

dear Cynthmala

I tried to choose mood and feel over narrative.

Larry the blank Lark
 — larrylark

Dear Graceinmlt

Glad you liked this slightly new departure.thanks for taking the trouble.
 — larrylark

He stopped and stared
at the natural world
as if for the very first time,
noticing his whereabouts.

really good, the response to this poem is too harsh considering the author and it's content.
 — unknown