poetry critical

online poetry workshop

baby caught me in my soft shoes

Watching all over
my right pinned shoulder
to the right-bearing pilot side
how did you call for the sighing lion? you mention,
the part of you who reads and writes.
Who taught you to do that?
How you manage to find the time?
It's not a matter of second guessing
not a matter of being brought up good
it's not a thing of brilliance or flair
not to be caught with expertise,
with a side of capacity or prime.
You jes caught me at a good time.
I'm not saying I've been good
I'm not saying I've been true
cause the good got shook from the clowns
neath the fac'trie clouds in the lower class town
and now the top's the bottom
and the bottom plum forgit the fact that the sky aint no longer blue
it's black and it's mean and it won't keep me clean
yeah it's the night, little baby, who's been blaming you.
If the heavens weren't glowing
and the city weren't dimming
I'd give you a fifth of a hint of a clue
an' for a nickel I'd hint ya
for a dime bag I'd flip ya around on the bed by the loo
neath the trees and the hornets and the fragments of night
and the glowing chinese goat bags of glue.
I'll tell the whole truth til it hurts when you're through with it
and when you're awake during night number two
when what we jes did was a part of our kid
we'll go to the inkwell where babies go too.
There'll be one fella'n me who has nothing to do
And he was jes a fella in soft shoes for you.

2 Jul 08

(define the words in this poem)
(88 more poems by this author)

Add A Comment:
Enter the following text to post as unknown: captcha