The Stairs
This is one of the poems that I wrote for the Golden Point Award competition, but which I did not select for submission. One of the "rejects". :)
photo by Basela, enhanced by dsnake1
image from morguefile.com
The Stairs
just maybe 40 steps
of stained concrete
and a rusted rib
of a handrail
to reach my flat
on the 3rd floor,
but have to keep
those eyes wide open
not just for
the silly love poems
or death threats
on the walls,
but that pool
of rancid vomit
from some heroin junkie,
or the shards of
smashed bottles
from a gang fight.
sometimes slumped
in a corner
of two greasy walls, a kid
not more than twelve,
who thinks nirvana
is a can of glue,
eyes hollow, the brain
all slushed
by the fumes
the air, sour and putrid
from the turpentine
hangs like a heavy cloak.
you think this is a war zone?
these people with the wary eyes
the thin mean lips
taut muscles
ready to spring
as i go past these
this city in pain
telling myself
i am just passing through
i am just passing through
13.07.07
********
This piece is a little bleak, don't you think? And I am not too sure the last strophe fits with the rest of the poem.
photo by Basela, enhanced by dsnake1
image from morguefile.com
The Stairs
just maybe 40 steps
of stained concrete
and a rusted rib
of a handrail
to reach my flat
on the 3rd floor,
but have to keep
those eyes wide open
not just for
the silly love poems
or death threats
on the walls,
but that pool
of rancid vomit
from some heroin junkie,
or the shards of
smashed bottles
from a gang fight.
sometimes slumped
in a corner
of two greasy walls, a kid
not more than twelve,
who thinks nirvana
is a can of glue,
eyes hollow, the brain
all slushed
by the fumes
the air, sour and putrid
from the turpentine
hangs like a heavy cloak.
you think this is a war zone?
these people with the wary eyes
the thin mean lips
taut muscles
ready to spring
as i go past these
this city in pain
telling myself
i am just passing through
i am just passing through
13.07.07
********
This piece is a little bleak, don't you think? And I am not too sure the last strophe fits with the rest of the poem.
Labels: life, Poetry, poetry competition
posted by dsnake1 at 10:12 PM
8 Comments:
this is indeed blak
but that is what gives it its power
and i think that the ending is just right
it moves it from simple
social realism in one place
to thoughts on existence/mortality for everyone
thank you
floots,
thank you!
initially, i do have doubts about the ending, that it does not fit in with the rest of the piece. (one of the reasons why i did not submit this work) :)
this, as i see it, is a powerful testimony of a way of life.
thanks, polona.
it wasn't a pretty place to live in, but i was there..:)
wow.... wonderful representation of the bleak side of life
thank you, magiceye!
what i described happened in the 80's, but i think it is still relevant today in any less-privileged precinct of a city..
Despair in this dark reality of your climb home hangs heavy here.
deborah,
thank you!
that was a long time ago. i was staying there because it was near to my workplace. :)
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