deepundergroundpoetry.com
hollywood & vine
how strange it is
to be amidst this many people
and feel so alone
i feel disconnected
i don't belong
there is the wail of a siren
screaming down argyle
maybe to spirit me away
these days
would i even know it
if i needed an ambulance?
to be amidst this many people
and feel so alone
i feel disconnected
i don't belong
there is the wail of a siren
screaming down argyle
maybe to spirit me away
these days
would i even know it
if i needed an ambulance?
Published 24th Jun 2022
| Edited 30th Jun 2022
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likes 4
reading list entries 2
comments 6
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Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
Anonymous
24th Jun 2022 8:30pm
coming my way
Suggest dropping “my way”
Cleans up the echo in the next line
with
Spirit me away, the reader can infer that it’s heading your way I think
Tight, writing sparse and Full
Thanks for the read
Suggest dropping “my way”
Cleans up the echo in the next line
with
Spirit me away, the reader can infer that it’s heading your way I think
Tight, writing sparse and Full
Thanks for the read
24th Jun 2022 9:06pm
You're right. Thanks.
I think I posted this one prematurely. The last lines bug me. Feel like they could be worded better.
I think I posted this one prematurely. The last lines bug me. Feel like they could be worded better.
Anonymous
- Edited 24th Jun 2022 9:08pm
24th Jun 2022 9:07pm
If I needed an ambulance
Reduces the word count and says the same thing with more immediacy
Reduces the word count and says the same thing with more immediacy
24th Jun 2022 9:16pm
Anonymous
24th Jun 2022 9:17pm
Always happy to play with words, I like your writing
25th Jul 2022 6:55pm
I remember being there back in 1962 when I was 17 and had yet to learn some essential life lessons. There the wail of sirens was background music to the ongoing life in movies no one was recording.
I’ve hit a wall called Writer’s Block.
Here, 60-some yrs later, sirens are rare, notable. But gunshots are common, usually from firing ranges. Looking forward to your next poem even as I work backwards through your work.
I’ve hit a wall called Writer’s Block.
Here, 60-some yrs later, sirens are rare, notable. But gunshots are common, usually from firing ranges. Looking forward to your next poem even as I work backwards through your work.
