A soft wind whispers
early September.
The year is passing
and you are closed
for good.
You were more
than brick and mortar—
You had a heart.
Now you rest in shadows
in the downtown.
You still bear the voices
of those who came in
for a burger or a drink
also playing video games
or sports.
I still hold in my heart
how you cared for
the servers working
their way through college.
They were the dearest friends.
But mostly I remember
the Friday nights when
I stood on the dining porch
and you urged me to sing.
I still hear the applause.
I still hold dear the night
when I painted a waterfall
while nursing a drink
in your loft.
O how a blank canvas came to life.
Each morning the sun shines
but your lights are off.
Sparrows dance in the sidewalk
and chatter by the front steps.
But as I drive and take a look
I sing my song for you.
No channel skipping ..no flannel...it was so gripping…hearts melt…Pant's ripping svelte pelt and belt..stripping and whipping..the fab never drab Rishab lab..was it real..felt like I was tripping… no pipping..surreal cartwheel flipping..
Some verse about the Panto Pant curse…does traverse…like a hearse….won’t reimburse..adverse bowlers terse..things getting worse…reputations nurse…Rishab flash panache smash and grab..rehearse that ramp reverse..in his own homegrown perverse.. with only himself will converse..no fretting..go getting…record setting universe..
Now has outshone and outdone..shoves show pony Dhoni.. as the Indian man alright talisman with the gloves everybody loves with the most tons..holy moly..more three figures scores on England tours than the folklore of before..Sunny and Kohli..
Records splattered shattered..gallivanting Pant parade..cascade and cavalcade …flattered .. Rishab paddled..bowlers addled and raddled..skedaddled
Ignore any naysayer…prime sublime Pantomimes…haymaker…cocktail shaker…p**s taker…tik tok peacocker..run for fun maker…cool cat with the bat..almost indecent crimes..the Indian’s best test player and slayer of recent times..
• He should've been back by now
• "Where did he go?" you ask
• "Downtown in the straw market," I replied
• "He tends to carry a flask"
music lingers
streetlights
shine stars
man and woman
sleeping in shadows
the library’s closed
an intimate voice
on the radio
as I drive home
midnight
the spell is cast
midnight
as I drive home
on the radio
an intimate voice
the library’s closed
sleeping in shadows
man and woman
shine stars
streetlights
music lingers
Best way to hear the local news and meet new people
The escalator keeps descending;
Seemingly, it’s never-ending,
Taking riders deep into
The bowels of the earth.
Everyone around pretending
That they’re fine, of course, depending
On their circumstances and
Just what their time is worth.
When the platform’s reached, there’s waiting.
Scrolling signs are indicating
When the closest train will come –
That is, if you’re in luck.
Minutes tick by, generating
Lots more people congregating
But you’ve made your choice and now
It seems that you are stuck.
Finally, a revelation –
See the train approach the station.
As the doors glide open, people
Rush to get inside.
Find a seat or resignation
Will stay ‘til your destination.
Then at last you exit,
Having taken it in stride.
The noise and the grime
the mushrooming crime
junkies and beggars abound
Strange folks in your face
steal your car, spray some mace
Who wants to vacation downtown ...
This year I'll cede culture
to the buzzard and vulture
as in soft meadows I lie
As I walk the city streets
and listen to the city beats
my heart keeps time with every sound
as precious memories abound
I think of where I’ve walked before
and those with whom I would explore
of restaurants and laughter’s fill
deciding who would pay the bill
Aroma of fresh pop-corned air
competes with fragrance everywhere
hypnotic billboards, signs aglow
distract as all the car horns blow
And as I walk the city streets
and clock my brain as it repeats
I’ll not forget the days and nights
of many fascinating sights
high-rises touch sunset skies
and are bathed in many hues
fast cars bright lights raucous noise
eclectic beauty
frowns and smiles people laughing
on the way to a new day
in the now vivid fashions
sophisticated
heart of the city red sun
not long past the golden hour
frantic above and below
anticipating
there's a place to go
the lights are much brighter there
if you're that crazy
you can blow up an RV
and let the whole world stare
Feed My Sheep He Pled
By David J Walker
It turns out that my
Atheists friends were all wrong
Jesus is real
And he hangs around
on a cross-town traffic light
Over the bricks laid by prisoners
In the streets of our long ago downtown
Watching the Salvation Army
Marching the hungry children
Stopping for a taste of his blood
And beard from his beard
Feed my sheep he said
Feed my sheep he pled
The light changed and
He was gone
In the middle of downtown, streets bend then end
Where day begins to climb the mountains range
With a glow light on the horizon less than incognito
Glass panes fill up with peoples silhouetted forms
Concrete surrounds windows opened like curtains
Steel beams grow to towers touched by silent sides
Small moons come in from other star systems
As visitors strong on the metropolis boulevard
It is hard to imagine how they all fit in the city
With all that traffic, gravity and laws of physics
It all works out on the cosmic stage completely strange
After all, a downtown complex is built to handle change
There is nothing more complex than visitors from space
In the middle of downtown in the middle of chaos
Where mountains are seen stretched just out of reach
Moons roll along the streets to meet them
Lost in their dreams as they have no footing in this reality
And no feet to stand on on the thoroughfare out there
A nurse takes time
To hang a DNA rainbow strain
Of Christmas bulbs
Along my gray window ledge
He plugged them in
Bringing a campfire glow of embers
Under my lids
And to the shirking corners
And the inflating machines shushing the room
Below
In the cobblestone valley of downtown
Ballerinas of steam
Spin
From paper-pushed vents in the empty streets
Window shopping on Washington Square
Laces of faces and hands
Pressed to glass
Longing for suits at Kositcheks
Or gold and silver from Linn & Owen
Mists jaywalking
And flagging a cold evening of vacated taxis
I dream
Of taking my wife’s hand
Pirouetting her across a crowded floor
At the Green Door
To a band bellowing the flutes of Canned Heat
Flinging sweat again like bathers in an ocean
Kissing and hugging and ass grabbing
Elbows bent with Fireball shots
High-fiving
Imploring return to our basic instinct
The perfect gift
Of lust and love marked by our fingerprints.
The tired sun sets over an everbustling city
Blinding dazed commuters heading west
Their cars in single file attempt to scatter
I hear a sound of hush descend over the cityscape
While towers scraping as high as they can reach
Just crave to punch their card and call it a day
Hoping to wind down before they close their eyes
The buildings gently exhale and bid adieu while
A setting sun ablaze at the end of each long day
Lights on cue the downtown garden of glass towers
Submitted on February 5, 2020 for contest WRITING PROMPT - TAKE THE DAGGER OUT sponsored by DEAR HEART - RANKED 3RD
Posted on January 16, 2020
We're going round and round to the downtown
Tonight the stars ain't here
Cause in my eyes
I'm looking at the brightest
It feels like I'm dreaming
Don't wake me up
Drown me with your eyes
Touch me with your heart
I'm dreaming tonight
I'm afraid that when I wake up
Heartbreak follows
Please don't wake me up
We're going downtown tonight
Drive me to the furthermost then
Pull me to your heart
And take me away with you
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