Description: I came up with it during class today. It's a rough draft, and I plan to submit it to my creative writing teacher on Monday for criticism. Eliteskills always gets first dibs though.
A leisurely walk down the Ave.
on a peppery Sunday in June.
Black paste lounges in the
sidewalk cracks, pulls in
cigarette butts like long lost
friends, (Handshakes are for
strangers, hug me you bastard!)
and grips our soles like an
unharnessed rock climber.
A red locked glamour girl comes on
quickly. Heels can be heard over
the Shoobie traffic zig-zagging
back to Philly as her skirt pukes
green into the wind. My pace
slows further until the bank
wall becomes my backrest.
She seems determined
to get to her destination
quick as possible, while looking
down on the world through oversized
sunglasses. Her right heel stops
to greet its college roommate though,
and her glasses scuff my well worn boots.
The detailing of this piece is quite arresting at its rugged pace. It comes at you relentlessly with a rabid set of images that are filled with a rich gloomy tapestry of urban elements (which I, have to admit, may be a poetic fetish of mine.)
However, I felt that your piece is too good for it to be tumored with such a thing as "glamour girl." It, I think, ruins the breathless relating that you seemed to have armed it with.
But that may simply be a matter of taste.
Anyway, what I got from this is a social critique; a nicotine laced version of who is the real fool - the poet or the business man; he who exercises the moment or he who stores it; he who has a pocket watch because it reminds him of Che Guevarra or he who has a wrist watch because it is more convenient?
Well, I guess we both know the answer to that one don't we. But then again, it could be just a matter of timing. Oh well...
Like I said, I thought that this was a strong piece. It possessed a fine level of intensity hidden under the most essential of cracks. It had a fairly suitable killer instinct when it came to the right words and it had the tendency to just break the rules to keep the whole thing a live - a feat which by my opinion placed it in a pretty good position to cause things.
Very nice. A certain amount of distaste in whatever you are seeing, at least that's what I'm getting. I liked the wording (it makes you think) and it is certainly original. Nicely done.
This is a good poem with some very strong details. I especially like:
Black paste lounges in the
sidewalk cracks, pulls in
cigarette butts like long lost
friends, (Handshakes are for
strangers, hug me you [censored]!)
It's very vivid and the image of
pulls in
cigarette butts like long lost
friends
is beautiful and unique. While
(Handshakes are for
strangers, hug me you [censored]!)
gives the poem a strong voice. This first stanza is without a doubt my favourite though the poem is strong throughout. If I were to suggest a way to improve the poem, I would use words that connote the pace of walking rather than telling the reader. Instead of 'approaches
quick', 'strides' or something.
Submission Name: Scuffs
