#1
the leaves created a sense of meaning
as they formed childishly separated blankets
across the weathered ground and chipped worn benches
that I imagine teenage lovers from the 50's finding freshly stained,
the teens holding silver screen moments in their hearts.
all the soda jerks smiling,
their shakes giving off light pinks
with the record player shining,
playing non-threatening music that brings to me
images of the color baby blue.
oblivious.

I turn left feverishly when I realize
my mind has led me onto the road less taken.
regaining composure I sit at a park bench,
roll up my jeans a bit to show off my chucks,
pretend to take out a comb and wave it through
thick-greased hair.
calm.
cool.
collected.

two old men are sitting at a concrete checker table,
one american, the other italian.
the italian's accent is thick,
the english language being tangled in the vines
of his homeland.
I think of how unlucky the italian was to be caught anywhere
other than the USA during the 50's.
but who am I to say
what is tangled,
what is caught,
and what is free?
Last edited by Mutmoo at Jun 5, 2010,
#2
The transition from the first to second stanza smacks me in the face. i don't like it, but maybe i'm not supposed to.
I like what you end on, but the tone feels so different in the last two compared to the first that this feels very haphazard and uneven.
however, i still do you give you mad props on the avatar
#5
I remembered reading this the first time and liking it a lot, but I forgot to comment on it. I liked the originality of the 1950s motif here, from a movie played in a park to slick-greased hair to post-WWII reflections. As hippieboy said, the imagery in the first stanza is great. It's vivid and sets a mood. The transition was harsh, not necessarily between stanzas but from line 2 to line 3 in stanza #2. I had been imagining the narrator in a car taking a "feverish" left turn onto the road less taken only for that image to be stopped abruptly with a conflicting image of the narrator sitting on a park bench. It could just be me, but I figured I'd bring to your attention that the image you might be implying in lines 1-2 of stanza 2 could conflict with line 3. Just a thought, but I'm really nitpicking here.

The last stanza hit me hard, but the poem as a whole didn't hit as hard. Besides the 50s motif, I wasn't able to connect the three stanzas together but that's probably due to my inefficiencies as a reader than yours as a writer. This was good work, though. Enjoyed.
here, My Dear, here it is
#6
theres a lot of potential but the syntax and little things kill the mood.
there's some conjoining that just gets jumbled
'the teens' is kind of an ugly subject in context. just 'teens' without the article would be better I think
your use of adjectives is a little messy and offputting in one or two instances. sometimes they feel way forced.

i like it more after a couple reads but i think you can do some touching up to fix the voice a little.

i was a little let down by the ending but it was solid. solid throughout. good to read from you. nice work. i just think you can tune it up a bit and make this a much more dynamic piece.
Anatomy Anatomy
Whale Blue Review

Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me