City Life

by Dan Bloom   May 21, 2010


I habitually avoid walking on cracks in the concrete. I'm unconscious of my feet; my mind is on my tired arm holding a briefcase. I pass hundreds of people with the same problems and ambitions. I follow the path into the garden. The flowers have blossomed; the colors are vibrant. Across the street are buildings make of brick, stone, and metal. They are covered in dirt. There is a broken, rusty bike that hasn't moved for weeks outside the apartment building. I notice the door is already open. I begin to climb three flights of warped wooden stairs. I remember to take the chicken out of the freezer while pulling out my wallet to get my keys. I think about my tired legs as I reach the top floor. I hear bad music playing loudly from my neighbors rooms. I read doors: 18,19,20,21.

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  • 13 years ago

    by Lori

    Great poem :) this is something that could be turned into a song. Have you ever thought of that?

    Great job!

  • 13 years ago

    by The Prince

    The problem with this piece is that it is badly formatted and ultimately boring.

    'Step after step I travel closer to my home after meeting my lover for lunch.'

    You have to grab the reader from the beginning -- I don't really care about the steps taken and whilst this poem, on first impression seems like a storyboard of thought-wanderings, then I'd suggest cutting out the unneeded flab that weighs this down.

    'I habitually avoid placing my feet on the cracks in the concrete'

    First piece of information that gives us any sense of character. Would be a good opening.

    'I begin to think while I walk and breathe
    I dream of things that might never happen:'

    First line: yawn
    Second line: cliche

    'I pass hundreds of people, all different,
    Most of them with the same problems,
    Few of them with the same ambitions.
    There are so many people that live here in the city'

    There is a problem with your timeframe as the beginning image that was conjured up in my head was of a quiet street leading to a house -- now there's some segment mid way through which pointlessly and vaguely states some random information about 'hundreds' of people. What are this personas ambitions? What are this persona's problems? Unfortunately reads like somebody of the age of 12 wrote that stanza.

    'I follow the path into a garden, almost home.
    The flowers are beautiful in spring,
    The colors are most vibrant at this time of the day.
    It is a beautiful place.'

    'the' should be 'a'

    This descpription is boring -- nothing stands out. No focus on anything, just bland imagery which only serves to tell the reader. Not show us. Show not tell. Remember that. What colours? What time in spring? I'm being nitpicky? No. Precise details are needed in any kind of poetry to separate the significant from the mundane.

    Now:

    'I notice the door is already open.
    I begin to climb three flights of warped wooden stairs.
    I remember to take the chicken out of the freezer while pulling out my wallet to get my keys.
    I think about my tired legs as I reach the top floor.
    I hear bad music playing loudly from my neighbors front doors.'

    Here is a fitting start to your poem/prose. The rest (to me) seemed like word dribble.

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