Dying day lengthens onto dried grass,
needle, split bag, dust blur, tree sways, time lags,
out of way, strayed, back beyond paving flags,
tail end of civic demarcation, gravel track fades.
Fear wells, silent scream curdles throat,
gurgle, unheard in the heads of those parading through
their late Sunday strolling dream, no one sees or hears.
Footfall imprints grey, among Autumns decayed roses.
Bower closes over pale flesh, dapple dark, splash flickers.
A barely palpable beat keeps time with swish of Autumn’s flitting debris.
Footstep clicks on tarmac path, desultory laughter fades,
life’s cadence ebbs away.
2 Oct 06
Rated 8.5 (6) by 2 users.
Active (2): 7, 10
Inactive (1): 1
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You lost me completely after line one. I really liked line 1 though. It reminds me of a strobe light. You can hear the words that are spoken while the light is on, but for each flash of darkness words are missing.
This is about a drug addict, The edge of nothing place where he gets his fix, indifference to life or death, callous disregard, the illusion created by visual imagery and the play of light through foliage on flesh. And no, he didn't walk home later and make himself a burger.
Larry perfect day Lark
It galls me that poems needing to be read carefully, maybe even (shock, horror) more than once are not picked up. There is some very good writing here; the evocation of a menacing mood is spot on and the use of dualities where there is one world with two layers is well put together. I took this to be a depiction of someone silently shooting up in a park amongst the foliage while the rest of the world -line 7- passes by unnoticing. Lines 7 and 8 are very good btw. this is a poem that is so much more than a description.
I have to admit the crit is finer than the poem. Thanks for taking the time
Larry, Sorry I didn't get this. I have no idea about an addict's world. It must have been my footsteps clicking on the tarmack path.
Larry, if I didn't know what you had written below, I might not have gotten the gist of this. (you have extra space in line 5, was that purposeful?)
I am trying to get a sense of the drugs and the disjointed (no pun!) feeling, that strobey sense of things when you're high, which I recall quite well from my own days of yore (and gore).