Position:Home>Poetry> I just wrote this poem-what do you think? Oh, and it's really long, so read
Question: I just wrote this poem-what do you think!? Oh, and it's really long, so read all of it!. Criticism welcome!?
A fierce wind seeps its way into the
midnight bullet train-
and leaves I shivering and my can of
black beans chill cold-
cool-s'cool-s'a-ll-cool-
on this cold train-bopping heading smiling
to Coltrane, oh baby I do believe I
love your way of smiles and dresses and
jeans, long hair waves and twinkling
sunlit in the moonlight eyes-
ah, lovely!. Ah, moon-I love you,
metal chill car-I love you-
cold moonlit tracks-I love you,
and all this way into the mainland vein
of America, a 'night in tunisia' and
recorded slapped on beat and delivered
in wax folding-can I sleep here!?
Should I as the night train speeds
past middle plains and lady marks
dawn with her neck lovin'
bites behind the ear of loving sighs!.
I am leaving Washington D!.C!., the atmosphere
is too much! for a sweet dreary bum as I-
San Fransisco is my renaissance!. I love her curves and rainy day pouts-I love you and by
train I pass dizzily by-
onward night train! Sick to my bullet am I! Another
poorboy, a pint, a bottle, a stick, a light,
I sleep, I dream of hips and thighs, I wake,
I clean, comb, clean teeth by fingernail,
all to the rythym of the night train in silver,
I shot a grain, I chewed and shook leather,
I sit and write in a furious time-table of lapsing
seconds and breaths-good God I'm a wreck-
and I love the crates that read as my companions oft do-"Made and bound for
China"-in red lettering and sealed with kiss
for luck-I love the chinamen in chinatown down
by the coastal bay, the swaying-ness
of it all, smiling wrinkled oriental wisdom of
centuries Zen!. And onward onward! I'm tired
an' dull, where's my Jazz, Duluoz!? You promised
life on the mountain, all I found was a
dirty shack and a dead mouse-what a religious
promise in said imagination! -
I pass through up Southern California-LA in her
man-made beautiful flowery smile in the lights
and shadowy figures jump
cars such as mine-and now share a laugh, a
smoke, a drink and tales of the wild cowboy west-where old bums drink rye and rum and
skaddish! Blam!-San Francisco is a-run with
rennaisance lovers and buisnessmen! Love on the docks, love on the hills, love
to be found a 2 'o clock morn,
let's talk of being made, then follow suit-
as in a night in tunisia!.!.!.
Www@QuestionHome@Com
Best Answer - Chosen by Asker:
It could definitely pass as a genuine Beat jazz-poem!. Great job!.
I liked these parts most:
You promised
life on the mountain, all I found was a
dirty shack and a dead mouse-what a religious
promise in said imagination!
oh baby I do believe I
love your way of smiles and dresses and
jeans, long hair waves and twinkling
sunlit in the moonlight eyes-
ah, lovely!. Ah, moon-I love you,
metal chill car-I love you-
cold moonlit tracks-I love you,
I sleep, I dream of hips and thighs, I wake,
I clean, comb, clean teeth by fingernail,
all to the rythym of the night train in silver,
I shot a grain, I chewed and shook leather,
I sit and write in a furious time-table of lapsing
seconds and breaths-good God I'm a wreck-Www@QuestionHome@Com
It's great!. I loved the ending!. Www@QuestionHome@Com
It is just ok!. I did like the black beans, tho!. Do not let criticism stop you from writing!. Writing is hard!.!.Www@QuestionHome@Com
A fierce wind seeps its way into the
midnight bullet train-
and leaves I shivering and my can of
black beans chill cold-
cool-s'cool-s'a-ll-cool-
on this cold train-bopping heading smiling
to Coltrane, oh baby I do believe I
love your way of smiles and dresses and
jeans, long hair waves and twinkling
sunlit in the moonlight eyes-
ah, lovely!. Ah, moon-I love you,
metal chill car-I love you-
cold moonlit tracks-I love you,
and all this way into the mainland vein
of America, a 'night in tunisia' and
recorded slapped on beat and delivered
in wax folding-can I sleep here!?
Should I as the night train speeds
past middle plains and lady marks
dawn with her neck lovin'
bites behind the ear of loving sighs!.
I am leaving Washington D!.C!., the atmosphere
is too much! for a sweet dreary bum as I-
San Fransisco is my renaissance!. I love her curves and rainy day pouts-I love you and by
train I pass dizzily by-
onward night train! Sick to my bullet am I! Another
poorboy, a pint, a bottle, a stick, a light,
I sleep, I dream of hips and thighs, I wake,
I clean, comb, clean teeth by fingernail,
all to the rythym of the night train in silver,
I shot a grain, I chewed and shook leather,
I sit and write in a furious time-table of lapsing
seconds and breaths-good God I'm a wreck-
and I love the crates that read as my companions oft do-"Made and bound for
China"-in red lettering and sealed with kiss
for luck-I love the chinamen in chinatown down
by the coastal bay, the swaying-ness
of it all, smiling wrinkled oriental wisdom of
centuries Zen!. And onward onward! I'm tired
an' dull, where's my Jazz, Duluoz!? You promised
life on the mountain, all I found was a
dirty shack and a dead mouse-what a religious
promise in said imagination! -
I pass through up Southern California-LA in her
man-made beautiful flowery smile in the lights
and shadowy figures jump
cars such as mine-and now share a laugh, a
smoke, a drink and tales of the wild cowboy west-where old bums drink rye and rum and
skaddish! Blam!-San Francisco is a-run with
rennaisance lovers and buisnessmen! Love on the docks, love on the hills, love
to be found a 2 'o clock morn,
let's talk of being made, then follow suit-
as in a night in tunisia!.!.!.
Wow that is long i luv it it is mysterious! Oh and that tooke me a LONG time to type!. LOL!Www@QuestionHome@Com