The curbs are low and worn
the granite crudely shorn
in this town where I was never born,
a legacy of rust
and long forgotten dust
awaits the fools that blindly trust
the scavengers of scorn
that just this very morn
sought perches to adorn
on pillars of concrete
that frame the indiscreet
surviving in the street.
Are You Reading Me?
Wow. Such a solemn, gripping poem.
ReplyDeletelegacy of rust - awesome line
ReplyDeleteNeil Youngish!
Laura has said it all..."Solemn and gripping"...perfect rhymes I must say.
ReplyDelete"surviving in the street".....good one.
ReplyDeleteThanks, as they say, they're (cities)a nice place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there.
ReplyDeleteFavorite line: "in this town where I was never born"
ReplyDeleteWell written! I can feel your emotions.
Erick Flores
I like the clever rhyme scheme!
ReplyDeleteI really like your rhyme scheme...amongst many great lines 'the scavengers of scorn' caught my attention. Great eye. Great write.
ReplyDeleteFor a short poem it don't arf take ee by the scruff and shake ee! Excellent work.
ReplyDeleteBob,
ReplyDeleteSometimes it is so difficult to find a bond with any place where we are strangers, or regarded as an outsider.
( Sorry for the late comment. Christmas shopping etc in the way!!!)
Best wishes, Eileen
Thanks a lot!
ReplyDelete