From obscurity come the strangers
Fading away, like old dangers.
Walking the street of flowers
more people pass every hour
A few are pleasantry exchangers.
Near my porch, robin sings
Beautiful music for summer swing!
Red berries in a bowl
Kelly green butterfles, on patrol
Noontime's for swaying and musing.
Passersby, smiles of the moment
Starry eyes, upon distance fervent!
Jasmine fragrance in the air
Pink hummingbird is stopping there
Yellow balloon wafts by, silent.
Eyewitness Passersby
David J Walker
Remembering the publicness
of this space
I am a guest
I am a ghost
And will leave without touching
The façade that appears as my image
What will the eyewitness say
How will the witness portray
What was meant to be
The variant me
Passing by
I am not a wandering star whom the dark gloom envelopes
I am not a cloud empty of tears and blown by barren winds
I am not a wild wave on the sea foaming up saliva
I am not an autumn tree empty handed and cut down
I am a cloud-topped tree flowing with honey in my veins
I am a shooting star breaking through the angels' grasp
sweet dreams in their eyes
bright as sunshine on flowers
ere the purple falls
they come and they go
each rosy day of our lives
like fruitful seasons
footsteps fade like mist
or brief butterfly visits
on paths of color
" She decided to jump,right from the top,mind was set,no way to stop..Free as a bird,life gone in a flash,hit the ground with a thud,as pedestrians pass...
rock hard ribbons string
cracking cobbled roads
hoards harmonize
with hidden steel chains
fractured silver mirrors reflect
an absentminded people
and ambivalence marches through
cloaked the anonymous labor
along grey stone city streets
cross crumbling avenues
broken beleaguered faces
the blind fail to grasp
the revolving refugee
plodding shadows darken
evaporate as mist
vanishing in the night
the rage inside is self-contained
as throngs of travelers pass
vistas without a view
silent veiled silhouettes
shadows without voice
deny the passerby
wanders now gypsies
hobble home again
to return
from where they come, amen
February 20, 2020
B1210H
And so I say, please take my hand
Share with me on my immaculate bed
A box of chocolates, black and filled
with all those goodies we so missed.
Why feels this city so alone, so empty
with all these people running, pushing
As if I don't exist, and nor do you
Shall we feel our still-alive together?
You have your wife, I understand
But when we kiss we both forget
I want you more than you can give
So go before you can't forgive
Yourself, and nor would I, confused.
I love you, strange and clumsy man
We were just passersby, your lips
Are imprinted in my heart, forever.
***
"Lost in Translation"
3d place in contest: Movie Mania - Romance
Sponsored by Nicola Byrne
September 30, 2016
For those curious about the very last line in the film, for those wondering about that for years now, here it is:
“I have to be leaving, but I won’t let that come between us. OK?”
Now, ain't that sweet :)
Some are strutting; others drag,
Promenade or amble,
Every one a puzzle
We’re unable to unscramble.
Some look cocky, others sad,
Lost in their reflections,
Heading off, in head and foot,
In varying directions.
Some are spiffy, others drab,
Yet a first impression
Isn’t quite enough to gauge
Contentment or depression.
In the city, passersby
Cross paths but what we see
Will not provide the clues to solve
Each private mystery.
PASSERSBY
The world seems to be passing by
On they go intent on arriving somewhere on time
Past they flow determined on something only they know
Leaving me they tumble and go
A steady stream of ants the are
Full throttle or leisurely they march by
I stop and stare wondering to where they go
Briefly we encounter each other
A glance
A smile
And sometimes a hello
Then steadfastly past they go
Everyone rushes
No one walks slow
Intent on their own agenda
Quickly they go
They appear then disappear
In ones or twos or multiples
Fast as lightening they speedily go
Their journey will end somewhere
Where that is only they know
You see them each and every day
Some going home, just on there way
You think one day you’ll stop and say
Hello,
but you just don’t.
So, on they go, again, so surely by
Though you may have given them the eye
You want to stop and just say
Hi
But today again you won’t.
Why is it that we scurry on our way,
Never stopping to give the time of day?
It wouldn’t hurt to surely say
Good day
To one going by
So, next time you are rambling about
Open your mouth and let it come out
Maybe you can even shout
Hello
To the passersby.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.