Chalk Liner

Nothing more than my past.

She runs through the town,

blood-drenched cement.

Stopping cars, the rain

falling with no relent.

 

Yellow lines burning with fury,

blocking her from love...

People shoving her away, she

can't see a thing.

 

And there.

 

With face bashed in, and blood

streaked around.

Ribs, like needles, poking through

flesh that's raked upon.

 

Her heart is torn, beyond any

words or comprehension.

Tears fall, camoflauged in the

icy cold sheet of gray rain.

 

The hurt and grief, and anger

and pain, it consolodates.

These people, taking away her child

who's dead and stiff with time.

 

Years later, that chalk outline

is scorched into her mind and heart.

Long after the rain and snow washed

away those yellow, soft lines in Detroit.

 

The absence of little feet, plodding

down the worn, wooden hallway.

Jumping in puddles of water, crossing

the street and holding hands.

 

That child was me.

 

I once walked the streets, smiling

with childish joy. Pressing my face into

windows, wishing for the store's warmth.

Laughing as I crossed the street for school.

 

And everything went wrong.

 

My trace lies here, in this barren home,

where fog and smoke smother the old.

Rain pours down on dilapidated buildings,

locking the grief and anguish to the ground.

 

The faded, yellow outline of my happiness

hangs around the building I called home.

And it has vanished from my entity,

left, and never to come back again in Detroit.

Reviews

[Jonathan Ballam]

This was an interesting piece. I enjoyed the few opening stanzas that were tight, and remarkably visual. It almost felt as if i'd been plunged into a graphic novel.

To me this poem felt like you either wrote it on two different sittings, or you were trying to sow together two different trains of thought. I lost a bit of the plot (logically that is) after the line "that child was me".

The second half seemed to be spun with a more romantic and leisurely tone of voice. Also I sensed your rhythm changed, and therefore my attention wasn't 100% there again.

Also take for example the 7th stanza. Here you mention the chalk outline accompanied by a powerful set of circumstances (that was great btw!) When I went on to stanza 12, though and read 'trace' I was muddled because I had already started to focus on a different train of thought (i.e. the little child laughing in the streets, and the small 'plodding' of her feet).

So there are a few things you may have to go over with a fine tooth comb at a later stage. This poem has still started on a powerful note. I look forward to what you can sculpt this into ;)

[Angel Veselinov]

Very well written poem. Loved every bit of it :) thanks for sharing

[Marie Harrison]

Very interesting write. I enjoyed the imagery, the story and the message.

[G. Anderson]

I can't call right now.

[~Xx Fallen Angel xX~]

You would have to call me to get my response on this. It's very good, even though we have diffrent tastes.

[Leon Agnew]

That's cool. Definitely has good imagery. I get the feeling that I'm really gonna like your poetry...

[MusicMartyrs]

wow. vivid imagery, sad story, incredible poem