A clanging foreign noise
drifts ricocheting to his ears
off walls and alley ways.
He, caught in mid breath
to discern the sound,
stops to peer through chain links.
Eyes coming buildings
just past the barbed wire.
"That district is a slum."
A collar of white leash,
forbids him to walk
on that side of the barrier.
...seconds pass
His thumb slips a top button
as his feet creep into the ghetto
The noise leads past
buildings lined with corrosion,
aged, dying municipal blocks.
The repeating steal chime
pulls him in on wary feet
through the arteries of a forsaken city.
unresting curiosity pushing him
to find a source, or a reason
for an alarm in a dead place.
FIN (Part 1)
This is my first entry on a series I am doing called "A pain-hope career". All the poems in this series will tell one story. So sorry to leave you hanging. I wrote Part 1 over nine times (not including revisions of those 9 drafts) to get it to this point. I hope you guys like it.
2 comments:
I look forward to part 2 and beyond because you know what it is like to choose deliberately to go beyond the safe and comfortable. Leaving us hanging helps us remember that often what is worthwhile is not fast or easy.
hey ryan, i cant wait till the other ones come out, i will definitely be keeping up with it.
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