poem


singing on the street

long time ago i saw a grown woman on the street
singing a song about a little girl called mary,
looking good and happy, living well, having it all
or perhaps just having a good day,
beautiful and proud like a big princess
how could she not sing?

such a pleasant suprise to see her happy,
such a pleasure of hearing her singing,
feeling like a little girl,
but my name was not mary.
my heart was crying that day,
i could not sing on the street like her
although i wanted to.

after a while, i tried to sing on the street,
but a large howl came out instead
with a lot of tears too,
for my heart was dying.

time passed quickly
and my heart has healed,
i could finally sing on the street,
just having a good day,
feeling happy like a little girl
thinking of that grown woman,
but my name is not mary.






Poetry by anton roxana
Read 592 times
Written on 2013-04-12 at 12:40

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Commentally Ill
i have learned not to sing in the street. apparently my yowl is capable of attracting every stray cat in the neighborhood, as well as every rotten egg the neighbor's kids can find.
2013-04-13



This is powerful, the natural flow almost hiding the complexity of emotion, the desire to be the woman's Mary. I love it, especially:

after a while, i tried to sing on the street,
but a large howl came out instead
with a lot of tears too,
for my heart was dying.
2013-04-12