The Wanderer (ver 7)

[LeoVictorBriones (poetremains)]

I wish to be as patient as an old chair or window shutters,
wish to lock the door behind me and forget about the trampled path
that has led me up and down the stairs of this tragic celebration.

There are streets I have walked, terrible asphalt streets
full of spray painted walls and those who mumble
to themselves every day⎯word by word, letter by letter⎯
convinced the pages between their temples
tell a tale of extraordinary oppression⎯

if only I could have, if only I would have!

I walk by them in old jeans, black Converse high tops,
and a tee shirt that reads, “The Apocalypse is looming.”
A hand blacker than blue reaches out and begs for mercy.
I pass along two quarters for a crisp swig of Colt 45,
remind myself, I once drank wine born of a vine as powerful as a clenched fist.

But here on the inky tar and gray grit,
I beg for packed dirt and twisted roots, the smell of pine and mesquite
that soothes and cools like a mossy spring or packed snow.

[Jonathan Morey Weiss-Namaste47]

Nice imagery and repetition of the color theme (black, blue and purple.)Oh for the days.....
I like the word, misanthropes myself, rather than psychopaths.........more in keeping with the context of the poem...Peace

[Tina (Firefly)]

Very strong images and metaphors...as you always do! Love the opening...love the revision. Still a few spots to edit. 'every day' is two words. Also, should be 'I pass along two quarters...'. I also like Jon's suggestion of misanthropes. Think it hits it a little better. A winner!

[Marion Poirier]

Leo some suggestions to tighten and reformat -
also, psychopath does not fit the description of
the people you describe; better to leave the word choice
to the reader. Interesting poem, evocative.
Marion

I wish to be as patient as an old chair,
lock the door behind me
and forget about the trampled path
that led me up and down the stairs
of this tragic celebration.

There are terrible asphalt streets
full of spray painted walls and those who walk
talking to themselves, word by word, letter by letter,
convinced the pages between their temples tell a tale
of extraordinary oppression --
if only I could have, if only I would have.

I walk by them in old jeans, black Converse high tops
and a tee shirt that reads, The Apocalypse is looming.
A hand blacker than blue reaches out
and begs for mercy.

I pass along two quarters for a crisp swig of Colt 45,
remind myself, I once drank wine born of a vine
as powerful as a clenched fist.

But here on the inky tar and gray grit,
I beg for packed dirt and twisted roots,
the smell of pine and mesquite that soothes
and cools like a mossy spring or packed snow.

[LeoVictorBriones (poetremains)]

Marion,

Thanks for the suggestion. I agree the didactic nature of the statement makes you think too hard and leaves little room for image interpretation. I hope you think the changes improve the poem.

Leo

[Marion Poirier]

Leo,

Re. the change in your poem:
IMO reckless is not the right word.
I've seen people like this often ranting
and raving in the streets; I think that there
would be a more accurate word. I have something
else in mind, but I realize your intent may be
different than the images this conjures up for me.
These people are fanatics some dangerous and
some harmless - all of them demented.


Also the very long lines in the format remind me
more of prose than poetry,
IMO it is outdated in contemporary
poetry-reminds me of the narrative type
of poem that is a compromise between prose
and poetry and not very popular in 2009.
Not only that, it reads better in shorter
lines, at least to me it does, holds the attention,
and our attention spans tend to be shorter in
modern times with so many other forms of
entertainment that require little or no thinking.

Sometimes I'm wrong.
Good poem all the same.

Marion

[LeoVictorBriones (poetremains)]

Marion, I think this is more to your point.

[Marion Poirier]

Yes, Leo, definitely better at least in my mind -
whether that is good or bad is debatable.

I believe deeply that a poem is only successful
if the majority of readers can relate to the poem -
no matter how eloquent or profound, etc.

I'm wondering if you need to say that much
in the last line -
seems to me this is your vision that may
be relatable to only a few of like mind.

I'd use either one or the other comparison/simile
as I would in the first line, in other words, condense,
and keep the thought - no need to embellish.
My opinion is that it draws the energy from the poem.
Less, for the most part is more - with exceptions -
nothing is written in stone.

BTW:
You should study haiku and you will never write
the same.

My best,
Marion

[determinedtofail]

Victor,

Thank you this poem seemed an effortless read. The 7th version reminds me that satisfaction of great poetry takes hard work.

I felt a sense of depth and Wabi Sabi here, that made my eyes rest and my heart swell. In turn it was nice to hear Marion's comment about Haiku.

I would suggest changing the ending a bit if it works for you, because the soothing part is implied quite well by this poem's strength/use of nature:

I beg for packed dirt and twisted roots, the smell of pine and mesquite
that soothes and cools like a mossy spring or packed snow.

I beg for packed dirt and twisted roots, the smell of pine and mesquite
that cools like a mossy spring or packed snow.

Cheers,

Shawn

[mfwilkie]

Leo, Thinking on this. Mags