The Dickensian

 

He had an air

About him that was

Vaguely Dickensian:

A florid, poetic

Manner that was

Somewhat comedic

To those around him

Who were not quite

As Victorian as he.

The rustle of his

Formal clothing,

Which was always

Ironed carefully

And placed upon

His person with

Extreme care,

Drew both admiring

Glances at the bravery

He must possess to

Wear such garments

And odd looks from

Those who did not

Understand his nature.

He was used

To others’ railings

Against him, to

Their massive insults

Which were

Intended to tear

Into his attire,

Molest his mind,

And render him

Incapable of confidence

Whilst he wandered the

Streets in such wear.

However, he had

The strange and

Wondrous ability

To simply not care

About whatever remarks

Those who did not

Understand gave,

And this capability

Allowed him to

Meander down the

Road in his romantic

Fashion without a

Backward glance

At those who muttered

And whispered.

 

Of course, this also meant

That the poor boy,

Who had come

To accept these

Harsh ridicules,

Began to also

Expect them,

Which ultimately

Rendered him completely

Incapable of ever

Getting to know someone

Who did not care

That he was different:

Someone who, in fact,

Admired his nonchalance.

And she, this girl

Who admired him so,

Would have made him

Completely happy,

But his feigned

Confidence never allowed

Him to stoop down

To speak to her.

Reviews

[Kelley Pascoe]

You were right about the big words LOL. This was a great poem!! I love each and every line . I also think it had a Dickens way about it??? Your very tallented. I must read more of your work. What one should I read next?
Kelley Frost

[Andromeda]

wow...great and sad too.