Wednesday, April 3, 2013


I no longer know the streets of my city.
The smoke and the lust have covered its walls.
And the light, the forgotten light,
hides from the skies on clear days.

The cold glow of fluorescent gas lamps
now bear witness to the neverending pain.
The wise man, the enforcer and the tribesman
hide in the shadows casted by the blunt remains.

There are no more dances in the crossroads.
No more games in the parks we used to share.
Through the alleys roam the soulless in their rows
of death and sin and the feeble existence of despair.

Blackprint Poetry's recommendation:
Today's recommendation goes to Samuel Peralta and his blog Semaphore. Peralta is a well established and well-known free verse poet. He is an objective to all us poets who want our work to be known to the world. Gather your best poems and enter his blog for a lesson on how poetry should be made.

1 comment:

Semaphore said...

A vivid portrait of urban decay and alienation. Interesting that your structure becomes more structured (including rhyme!) as the poem progresses.

I really like your (semi-regular) format of a poem, followed by spotlighting another writer's site. Thanks so much for recommending my Semaphore blog, and for the kind words - very much appreciated.