June
The only noise I can hear in this
Beige apartment building:
A pitter-patter of the rain as it falls, then echoes, Sounding a tinge into my mother’s metal sauce pan that is Still caked with a sticky layer from last week’s dinner of canned corn.
First rain of the month;
23rd day of June.
Walking past signs that advertise a life unwanted,
I make my way through the city,
Trying to find a small piece of home and comfort.
Living on my own had promised excitement.
Yet, as I listen to my roof leak,
I realize that this neon city has done little for me.
The quite loneliness of an empty population has only taught me how to listen to a low Rent fee drip with weather’s shower.
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Em
Somehow I think of this, and I'm not sure why. I really like this video and I'll just put it here on a purely gut feeling that in some way it will make sense. Probably not.
And on the topic of your poem: I like it. In fact, it's highly fascinating. My only advice would be to perhaps extend it and show us where you're trying to go. (And also: pitter-pathtter is meant at "pitter-patter", I believe.)
Opps! Thanks MM (and I'm
Opps!
Thanks MM (and I'm trying to work on extending it but I think I'm coming down with a bit of a writers block for this one, changes will be up soon though!)
And about the AWESOME video:
It actually does make sense (but I’m not entirely sure why :P).
That thing = poetry
Poetry = everything
Everything = moments made into that thing that creates poems
:) That's exactly what I
:) That's exactly what I thought.
I found another similarly inspiring but more light hearted video. I think I'll email it to you (so CHECK for once!) so as not to abuse the cool video capabilities of YWP...