atlantic city
walden freeman
Posts: 511
to take this lightly
i would have to be serious
seriously poor
and made of wires
covered in altitude
lower than you could imagine
minus a clerk
plus a desk
shaking every tree
falling on my face
i would have to grow up
act tall
eat vegetables
willingly
concede this election
think long and hard
smile, and speak
and mean nothing
to anyone
i would have to be serious
seriously poor
and made of wires
covered in altitude
lower than you could imagine
minus a clerk
plus a desk
shaking every tree
falling on my face
i would have to grow up
act tall
eat vegetables
willingly
concede this election
think long and hard
smile, and speak
and mean nothing
to anyone
Post edited by Unknown User on
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this doesn't have anything to do with your poem other than the title but when i read the title of this i was reminded of an awesome dream that i had a few years ago so i hope that you don't mind me putting this here
there's ghosts in this city
that know me by name
yellow sunlight streams in
through the tall windows
inside of a diner
from out of the past
across from me in this booth
sits a man i've never met
his green eyes so familiar
so much like my own
"who are you?"
is the only thing that
i can think to ask of him
my question is answered
with his infectious laughter
"i've always known you, kid,
way back before the day
your Father was born"
we each are eating a bowl
of sweet peach ice cream
as he asks me questions
about the others we know
looking up at him
I can't help but notice
that same cheeky grin
seen so many times
on the face of my father
and on the face of my son
taking a last sip of iced tea
he then goes up to pay the check
and along with the tip
he leaves the waitress
a silly, quick witted joke
when we get to the doorway
he turns, looks to me and says
"you should use your gifts, kid"
as we step outside
into the bright sunlight
he puts his hat on his head
and before i can ask him
"what do you mean?"
he turns, fades and disappears
walking down the sidewalk
along Ventnor Avenue
there's an angel in this city
that knows me by name
angels share laughter
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It's weird because I also wrote a poem about atlantic city but this one is very different.
my Dad was born in a house on Ventnor Ave. and grew up at the corner of Windsor and Atlantic. my Mom grew up on California Ave. all my siblings were all born in A.C. too. my family moved from Brigantine to Virginia (I'm the rebel
what i wrote was a dream i had about my Grandfather, he died 23 years before i was born, when my Dad was 17.
angels share laughter
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Well, thank you for sharing. I've been a lifelong resident of this area. Grew up in Northfield and Pleasantville, hung out in Somers Point, Margate, Ventnor, etc. Brigantine is one of my favorite places.
Small world.
my cousins grew up in Northfield and my Aunt and Uncle still live there. yep, i know all those places you mention....though it's been a loooong time since i've been back east....i kinda miss visiting there and being the weird kid with the accent.
angels share laughter
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~