Thread: The Kindness of Strangers

Another oldie I dug out of my wardrobe. I found three notebooks full of poems, as well as about 7 short stories. I quite liked this one, so I thought I'd put it up to see what you thought of it. Once again, it lacks rhythm - which I hate - but I thought the concept was quite nice.

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I peer through narrow eyes,
while they skip down the street:
so innocent their skin glows
with divine beauty.
Their limbs are draped with jewels,
and they move as if running
through a sea of glittering gold.

I watch from beneath the bridge
while wealth strolls to me,
muttering idly about their
“unfortunate lack of luck these days”.
The darkness in which I wallow
stinks of filth and other demons
like pity, despair, anger, love.

The seraphim turn their heads
(so fashioned for their journey
through a street that their hair alone
sends the sunlight glinting
on my darkened eyes)
and set their impulsive gazes onto me.

Oh, I wait, and hope,
while those with the power
to comfortably enrich the poor,
look at me with pity,
and comment on ‘Lady Luck’.
But I growl with anger,
when they become bored
and skip on.
The dancing sun
Sets behind the hills;
going to meet the fortunate elsewhere,
while in the gloom of Hell I lay stricken,
and sob, as three curious Billy goats
croak their wonder
on the road above.

This has a lot of very tasty meat to work with, Nick. The ideas and images are very good. I agree with you that the rhythm needs work, but I think you're up to the task if you decide to re-work it.

You definitely brought to mind a version of the three billy goats gruff and the troll under the bridge, intentional? I like it.

This is really great. It reads more like a story than a poem, though, for want of a more distinct tone. When you listed things ("pity, despair, anger, love"), it kind of left the piece vague due to contradicting ideas. I think more rhetorical focus on dominant emotions, whether a single throughout or many in progression, would have served better. I also think "But I growl with anger" should be left until after the fact, so that like the speaker, there is a moment of suspended hope for the reader, rather than a blunt reversal.