PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

What I was Thinking Sinking to the Bottom of That Pool


What I was Thinking Sinking to the Bottom of That Pool
Dear Old Sport,
 
I am one of the 
few honest people that I have ever known,
but I am slow thinking and 
full of rules that act as brakes 
on my desires;
most affectations conceal something eventually, 
even though they don't in the beginning.
 
There are only the pursued, 
the pursuing, 
the busy, 
and the tired.
And
I had no girl whose 
disembodied face 
floated along the dark cornices 
filled with faces dead and gone.
And for some reason it was the gloomiest part of my day.
 
Under different circumstances that
conversation might have been 
one of the crises of my life:
I was going to 
enter into their lives, 
and no one would ever 
know or disapprove.
 
Signed,
 
Jay Gatsby
 
©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.

Log in to leave a comment.