Grandma lived in the city.

Street lights through the window
Sliced thin by bargain blinds
Swing slightly to the cold
Pushing through invisible gaps
To dance along the walls away
From the sirens screaming by

I’m hiding under thin starched blankets
Dazzled in delicate pink flowers
Enveloped in a softener bouquet
Of washed out striped bedding
With muted evening Christians on the TV
Mingling through this stale environment

A midnight ballerina
Under hospital cornered sheets
A visiting urban prisoner
From the cushy countryside
Morning will bring lightly buttered malt-o-meal
And sunlight that hides the things wailing this night

It’s cold in here.
I can’t speak Spanish.
I don’t know my past.
I want to go home,
And live in pleasant ignorance
Go back to my rural bliss.

"I never understood the whole 'no cruel and unusual' punishment thing. If it's not cruel and unusual, it' not punishment." - PFJ

mons,

Work with me here, I am tired and overwhelmed, but for some odd reason does this equal sleep for me? No, of course not! Instead I'm up replying on FF&P. Typical, eh? But just a warning that I may not be up to snuff in my replies, who knows.

The thing I liked best about this poem was the...details. The way you painted a picture. I could picture being where you were, it was vivid. You have a way of describing an image really well-- it's one of your gifts as a poet, I think. This poem capitalized on that.

On a less serious note, aww, c'mon, the city ain't all that bad.

~Gabber



"Deliver me, out of my sadness
Deliver me, from all of the madness
Deliver me, courage to guide me
Deliver me, strength from inside me

All of my life, I've been in hiding
Wishing there was someone just like you
Now that you're here, now that I've found you
I know that you're the one to pull me through..."

GABBER!

I don't like the city. i grew up in the fields! and i have a poem about that i may put up! the fields that is. he he.

there was more to the poem i ended up taking out cause it truly sucked. oh, hell.. nope, i left it in there. well, i wish i had left it out.

a lot of people feel comfortable at grandma's i didn't. the whole scene should feel a bit clasterphobic and prison like, cause that's what i felt like over there. her religion made me seem like i was terrible. everything about me was a sin! and i didn't speak spanish and she didn't speak english. there were so many barriers. she was a perfectionist-- i'm a free spirtited perfectionist! but, we pretended to get along... but when everything was silent, that's when it was too obvious that there was nothing to talk about. i wasn't in bed because i was sleepy... i just didn't know what else to do.

i'm glad the images were there. that's what i love. i'm no artist, i can't draw worth a lick. but when everything is flowing as far as the old ver-bage goes- i can make up for the lack of hand and eye coordination.

the country rocks! and if i post that other poem--you'll see why!

Oh! and thanks for reading Gabber! yeah! a reader!

mons

"I never understood the whole 'no cruel and unusual' punishment thing. If it's not cruel and unusual, it' not punishment." - PFJ

mons,

*laughs* I guess it depends on what you consider the city. I think of myself as living in a city, but really, I'm 45 mins from downtown LA and live in a suburb...so maybe I'm biased. I don't quite like the open fields though... *smirk* but that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to hear a poem ABOUT the fields. hehe

What part do you wish you'd left out?

I can imagine that that would have been pretty funky. Especially with the fact that you don't speak Spanish and she doesn't speak English-- that would make things very awkward. Plus your personalities don't seem to quite match either. I can see why you wouldn't necessarily enjoy being there...lol, and you prolly felt like you were going to hell for thinking that too, I'm sure.

You know what I wish? I wish I could paint. Not necessarily draw, because I can kinda do that... but paint. I've always wanted to have a blank canvas and paint this beautiful picture...but I wouldn't even know where to begin! I was daydreaming about that the other day actually. I was staring at a painting and imagining how the person was able to make it look the way they did. It always captivates me...so maybe that's why when people are able to paint an image with words, and I love words too, maybe that's why it captivates me as well. The combination of everything.

*laughs* See if you can convince me. And you're welcome...lol, I read everything, it's just a matter of whether I reply to everything, heh, 'cause sometimes I don't if I can't think of anything to say. Oops.

~Gabber



"I'm shedding...shedding every color
Trying to find a pigment of truth
Beneath my skin
'Cause different... doesn't feel so different
And going out is better than always staying in
Feel the wind

Let the rain fall down
And wake my dreams
Let it wash away my sanity
'Cause I wanna feel the thunder
I wanna scream
Let the rain fall down
I'm coming clean..."