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Vacant Names


Silent alleyways, bright window shops

Warm riveting smells in these compressed

bricks are as familiar as a common cold

These streets hold an evening story so predictable, simple

 

Distant chatter of work/sleep/life full of memories

The voices change around to spring, summer, fall, winter

The speed of time irrelevant to the weathers occasion

Walking amongst the admired, relevant

 

The only warmth on my fair body is the bittersweet smile I hold

Even the lights, illuminating lanterns hold no colour to my cheeks

But the joy in my heart still beats to the chill night

by a radio calling out to the stars

 

So many reds & yellows compliment the air in this town, this narrow neighborhood, this strip of a city

Brings back the colours I dream that I can feel

So many many homely mellows fill these crowds eyes & grins

The scent fills my soul as the absence sharpens

 

Most people see a newspaper headline, the wave of the trees,

Or the percentage they have left for the day

Walking through crowds with a shiver of a tighten coat

Reflections on a window of oneself go without recognition

Forgetting the people they pass through for something better

 

Perhaps they are going to see the fireworks?

Maybe to a welcomed home, away from the place I roam

I’ve always care too much for others around me

If nothing else I’m fine with an invisible mark left forgotten

To be the wind that you shake from

 

Silent alleyways, bright window shops

Warm riveting smells in these compressed

bricks are as familiar as a common cold

These streets hold an evening story so predictable, simple



 

Distant chatter of work/sleep/life full of memories

The voices change around to spring, summer, fall, winter

The speed of time irrelevant to the weathers occasion

Walking amongst the admired, relevant

 

A common place for the attention of a ghost

 
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Freebird986

Writing is a passion that I harbor in a bottle too often. It's hard for me to express my words out in the open with out stuttering, or losing what I want to say. For me, poems capture what the heart can't say out loud. Poetry helps those thoughts become heard and I am more than willing to hear others as well.

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Comments (1)

Lovewhat
<p>And how could it be that if that eventual pulse of turning you into two were not so negative and dark&nbsp;</p><p>and everything could be seen as positive? &nbsp;It is like day and nigth....it happens...how it happens you&nbsp;</p><p>chappens depends on your choice of your other.</p>

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