 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 14:28:01 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 1163
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Outside
[time] => 2002-07-26 16:03:08
[hometext] => The city in high summer, at dusk, is still the most beautiful thing I can think of. I don't know why. It's just a certain quality... but I could never help but feel left out from the children playing in the streets, relectantly going inside once night fell... I would wander the streets of Boston at 15, having nowhere to go, and just watch the city as night fell. It was always somehow sad and beautiful at the same time.
[bodytext] => It’s summer, the city at dusk.
Night is slowly creeping up the skyline, Closing out the holes in the air. There are holes in me too, Gaping, precariously covered with Saran wrap, Waiting for a jolt or a misstep to come undone again. I sit on the curb at the base of a sign No Parking Anytime And watch the children play across the street… It’s late August, and the air has the quality That it never has in any other month And the final rays of sun are almost orange against the concrete. The children slowly scatter as sun fades into shadow, Running up doorsteps and into apartments, Somewhere safe, where they are wanted. I walk across to the empty basketball court And sit under the hoop, scuffing the pavement with my worn-out shoes, Feeling the lingering warmth of the asphalt And wondering where everything I know has gone. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 162 [topic] => 21 [informant] => skinny-little-punk [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 11 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com