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reflections of a westward trip ...
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reflections of a westward trip ... |
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ma miller Senior Member
since 2000-07-11
Posts 806 |
reflections of a westward trip ... westward | where mountains are king | and my heart's pound of flesh was left | waiting for a local trolley that never came | to take me away from a moment of weakness is where the angels play jazz to the wee hours | of a morning that couldn't take the edge off | the night before's cherry sloe-gin drinks | that kept coming without my command or money and the stench of affluence is so overbearing | i remember dry-heaving from the thought | of never being as rich as some two-toned punk | as he sharpened his knife on my best leather once even the poor know you're from outta' town | they look down on you like you owe them | the time of day that they're ready to steal | right off your hard-earned wrist anyway your strangeness increases exponentially M.A. Miller 10.20.00 < !signature--> My calling before me, let quill be my offering; For to be called poet, no greater gift to receive. M.A. [This message has been edited by MA Miller (edited 10-20-2000).] |
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Denise
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-08-22
Posts 22648 |
Sounds like a bad trip. But we can learn life lessons from every experience. Well written! I enjoyed this! Denise |
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kcsgrandma Senior Member
since 2000-09-24
Posts 1522Presque Isle, ME |
I love the structure of this poem, and not being a city person, I can also appreciate a lot of its content. Very interesting reading. To love another person is to see the face of God. - Les Miserables Marilyn |
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wordancer Senior Member
since 2000-07-30
Posts 809VA |
I must say I really like the setup of this, it adds to the mood of the poem. 'tis a very strange world that you vividly write of...cold, cruel and sad... -Lady |
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