sorry I've been a fan of being poetic recently. I suppose spring inspires me. I've read some of the poetry that I've written recently to friends and they just tell me how dark it really is when you think of the images and thoughts behind it. I've thought about them and just have been interested at how often I bring up concrete. Why? I don't know.. but that has been added to at least the last two poems I've written. I suppose there might be something about that, as whenever I write in that style (aka the style I used in the last entry vs. metered and rhyming), it actually is a good look at what it going through my head. Why though the thought of concrete inspires me, I'm not quite sure... I'll have to think more on it. I really want to write something, but right now I've not been "hit" by the poetic bug, as I had the last two times, and since those poems are semi good, I don't want to write something now that would be foul. I dunno. I guess I'm pushing myself to new levels. maybe I'll write something later...
***
Locking away the cell phone, keys,
and belt. Emptying pockets of anything
that can do bodily harm, and
putting them in a numbered metal
box under lock and key. Buzzing
in through a locked door and
walking down a hallway. Eyes shift upon
the click of the door and heads
turn to greet the newest visitor.
A scrawny old woman paces
the hallway, greeting everyone who
walks past with a secluded smile.
The clock ticks on the wall, and
some just sit and stare. Workers
buzz by with trays and clipboards.
Food from the real world is a
rare delicacy, only plastic bottles
allowed. Shifty eyes dance around the
room as hushed voices fidget. I pick
at the cut on my arm, wondering if
I should be on the other side of the
lock. Would it help? Exchange the
visitor's pass for a resident's name tag.
Sometimes I wonder. Either way, an
interesting place to eat McDonald's
for Easter dinner.
***
ok.. so I added a poem and have been playing around with torrid online and have decided I'm poor, but I need cute clothes, so if anyone wants to donate to my cause... go here:
Ellen's Torrid Wishlist. Yeah, I'm a dork, but I'm not below begging or asking for charity. lol..
And I loooooove presents.
***
Locking away the cell phone, keys,
and belt. Emptying pockets of anything
that can do bodily harm, and
putting them in a numbered metal
box under lock and key. Buzzing
in through a locked door and
walking down a hallway. Eyes shift upon
the click of the door and heads
turn to greet the newest visitor.
A scrawny old woman paces
the hallway, greeting everyone who
walks past with a secluded smile.
The clock ticks on the wall, and
some just sit and stare. Workers
buzz by with trays and clipboards.
Food from the real world is a
rare delicacy, only plastic bottles
allowed. Shifty eyes dance around the
room as hushed voices fidget. I pick
at the cut on my arm, wondering if
I should be on the other side of the
lock. Would it help? Exchange the
visitor's pass for a resident's name tag.
Sometimes I wonder. Either way, an
interesting place to eat McDonald's
for Easter dinner.
***
ok.. so I added a poem and have been playing around with torrid online and have decided I'm poor, but I need cute clothes, so if anyone wants to donate to my cause... go here:
Ellen's Torrid Wishlist. Yeah, I'm a dork, but I'm not below begging or asking for charity. lol..
And I loooooove presents.VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
i graduated with someone who grew up in stoughton, then moved to my town.
just wanted to drop by and say hi, i was looking around for TC people
Gray