Geezer

May 02, 2011 ⭐ View statistics (Premium feature)

Better Days... [East Main St story]

Hot, sweaty night with stagnant air
The smell of stale beer
crowding up against the cracked walls
and peeling paint

A black and white Marlon Brando
screaming; Stella.... Stella!
from the little T.V. sitting
next to the window

I see the black and rusty fire escape
through tatted lace yellowed with nicotine
Pop's head lying upon forearm
his mother's face behind his bleary eyelids

A winter morning and frosted windows
fried dough and hot chocolate
hugs and kisses
and better days

He told me once...

His raspy voice cries; "I'm sorry mom"

I'm sorry too...

About This Poem

Last Few Words: This is something I wrote long ago and just revisited. It needed apolish and I had more thoughts.

Style/Type: Free verse

Review Request Direction: What did you think of my title?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - draft

About the Author

Region, Country: New York State - USA, USA

Favorite Poets: Poe, Emily Dickenson, Robert Frost, Shakespeare, and many of the poets here at Neopoet.

This user supports Neopoet so it can be free to all

Comments

Geezer

14 years 2 months ago

My intent...

in this poem, was to show not only the poverty of some, but the dreams of a man who in his drunken stupor, dreams of better days in the past, when he shared a winter morning with his mother. I don't believe that most rich people, wish to keep the poor poor, but just to keep themselves rich. ~ Gee

Candlewitch

14 years 2 months ago

Dear Sir Gee,

I echo Ian's remarks. It is a terrible shame the way things work out.

love, cat

Geezer

14 years 2 months ago

Thanks Cat...

Yes, a terrible shame that some people feel so bad about themselves that they maintain a constant state of drunkeness or intoxication on drugs and alcohol that they never escape their environment, and just dream of better days. Love ya, ~ Gee

Geezer

14 years 2 months ago

Thank you...

I think you got it in one! As for the smell, sorry about that. As always, thanks for the read and comments. Love ya, ~ Gee

Frederick Kesner

14 years 2 months ago

Yes

We all look to better days even if these better days are distinctly individual as we all are. Might we enjoy more of them for there is enough strife and trouble to each day and their offspring.

Geezer

14 years 2 months ago

Amen...

to that! I think you came up with the same feelings that Shirley did, and that was my intent. Thank you, ~ Gee

Geezer

14 years 2 months ago

Thank you...

I didn't know what it was called, but I felt it so strongly that it just flowed right out from beneath my fingers. Sorry for the lump in your throat, but that means that I did what I intended do; evoke images in your mind. Glad it was something you could relate to. ~ Gee

Geezer

14 years 2 months ago

That is the point...

To make one think! I am glad to make people think. The reality of poverty, is that many become discouraged, and turn to drugs and alcohol, which then makes them even poorer. I see it all the time. Children left to fend for themselves, wandering the streets at night in gangs. Fathers and mothers, passed out in front of the T.V. or out in the clubs, with grandma babysitting, snoring on the couch.
Thank you for the comments that mean so much to me. I hope that I have come a ways. I have all the poets here to thank for that, especially some, who have encouraged me to write what I feel, and feel what I write. There is lots of grit to be written yet! Love and higgest bugs, ~ Gee

judyanne

14 years 2 months ago

great write gee

very visual - sad and melancholic in its way
brings memories of my own....

one thing -
'from the little T.V. setting- ('set' or 'sitting'??)
and
'on a his and her only morning' - do you think 'his and her' need quotation marks ?? or to be joined by hyphens -

love judy

Geezer

14 years 2 months ago

Thank you...

for catching the spelling error. I am looking at the suggestion of quotation marks or joining by hypens now.
Glad to see you here again. ~ Gee

Gracy

5 years 1 month ago

Lovely poem, gee. Again you

Lovely poem, gee. Again you've touched me with memories of my own. I was sent to a rural school built of adobe. My friends were extremely poor, mostly mestizos, but I thank my Dad for forming my present mindset about poverty, discrimination and the greedy rich.
I shall return for another read, you've made me think a lot. Tx for that!

Geezer

5 years 1 month ago

This was...

the result of a visit to my father after he and my mother split up and he moved to a seedy hotel at the other end of town.
~ Geezer.
.

Geezer

5 years 1 month ago

As I have said...

just a few moments ago, in a comment to a poem in the workshop "Titles". I had reconciled with my father a few years before he died. We were still working on our relationship when he passed away. I have made a couple of changes to the poem, just shortly before I put it on the list for you to read. Thank you for your most kind comments. I appreciate your time and efforts to help me make my series of writings on my pre-teen years at East Main St. a success. ~ Geezer.
.

Candlewitch

4 years 11 months ago

dear Sir Gee,

thank you for bringing this piece of work to my attention again. the rawness of the memory gives me chills. I'm reminded of the precious moments I've wasted on bad times...sometimes it is just too hard to let it go. I think it is healthy to write aabout it and get out.

*hugs, Cat

Geezer

4 years 11 months ago

I fear that...

you are in for the whole bunch that I have written about those times. I went and revised the titles to reflect the East Main St.
and now they are showing up one after the other in the stream. I guess that is okay though; maybe I will get some fresh perspective on them and edit and prepare them for publishing. Thanks for all your great feedback. ~ Gee.
.

Xavier Sleuth

3 years 11 months ago

Like a heartache-

This is good
In a sad way.

Geezer

3 years 11 months ago

Yeah...

This is a true story, about a visit to my father at the seedy little hotel, he had moved to after my parent's divorce; where I found him asleep at the table with a half-empty bottle of booze. You will find some of the [East Main St. Stories] are about some sad things. [Sorry].

Xavier Sleuth

3 years 11 months ago

Nah-

Don't be sorry.
It's good to write sad things
Maybe even more than happy ones.
Poetry's good for tough stuff.

Geezer

3 years 11 months ago

Thanks...

and smiles. ~ Geez.
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