Night Town of Words

too dark to write

Dark shapes lose their forms, as the darkness

creeps over the cobbles. Torn newspapers lose

their printed heart-blood, thrown before my

shiny, pointed, going-out shoes.

This is not the time for a manifesto, it is the

age of uncertain quality.

The past races from me and hides in doorways,

running over curved bridges, sticking out its tongue.

Chains of light break and form.

I read my notes, pulled from a pocket of coins and crumbs.

The letters have no sense, they are night shapes.

I is my body, am is longer, weaker. Unhappy starts

with a boat, a half face stretching up into the stars or

half lights, p and y slip down into the next line, the

forms all wrong, a scale with just one wrong note.

I am unhappy ? Did I write this ?

Reviews

[Emily B]

i might have missed this, but someone was kind enough to send me a read request, good poetry is always shared

[Mary]

interesting. funny how emotions can be crumpled like the note into a pocket full of crumbs, and when reacquainted with them at a later time are hardly recognizable. The images drawn in this poem are dark and beautiful. "this is not the time for a manifesto" the night shapes of letters..."did I write this?" I have come across some of my painful journals from the past, and I hardly recognize the person who wrote them. good work.

[bob, small b. aka invs]

ah. how well i know some of these feelings. wonderful writing considering the topic. it's almost an oxymoron to write so well about being unable to put things together properly. i hope you're not too unhappy. especially with this writing.

[HulyaY]

A read request for writing of this brilliance is an invite I would like to get time and again. The free verse/prose poem with an impeccable inner rhythm you created here has much to narrate, almost in every single word. What I like the most is how you empower your reader with an interpretation of her/his discretion. The way superb poetry should be, in my view. Thank you for your read request.

[Arthur Henn]

Your style is a mold of its own - Your writing is very clever... Again... This was brought to my attention as a read request... I like what I have read...

[emmajoy]

'I am unhappy ? Did I write this ?'

You've created true atmosphere with this post; your journey seems to be carried along in a patch of thick hovering mist, then, oh then, the ending really hits home, like an arrival at a place you didnt know you were going to visit. You've an unusual style, it makes light of seriousness, it takes a small example then converts it into something greater, '..The past races from me and hides in doorways, ~ running over curved bridges, sticking out its tongue.'

[Droll Prole]

I love the way you can take the reader along with you on some little journey, you set the scene and draw the reader in with how you are feeling within the picture. Kinda like a painting.

[Marie]

Yes a dark poem, but you managed to write it--U's and P's and Y's doing what they must.

[FJ Davis]

Very much appreciate these lines:

"The past races from me and hides in doorways,
running over curved bridges, sticking out its tongue."

"I read my notes, pulled from a pocket of coins and crumbs."

Child-like references that are charming and endearing. Don't be hesitant to take credit for this poem, Leslie, I think it's got a lot going for it.