NaNoWriMo has been consuming all of my writing time. Luckily for me, I have a reserve that I can post from. Like I’ve said before though, I like to post what I am feeling at the time. Since I have nothing readily available that reflects what I’m feeling — an ambitious drive to rearranged the alphabet into a glorious translation for readers to enjoy all over the world — I’ll just share a poem that I wrote to describe a day such as this one.
I wrote Gray City on September 22 while riding the company shuttle through downtown Atlanta to a meeting. With soft melodic tunes playing from my headphones, the clouds over the the city started to take poetic form.
I am not comparing myself to either of these greats by a long shot, BUT they are who I like to draw most of my influence from when it comes to poetry. I would like to think of this piece as a fusion of the urban life style of Harlem brought by Langston Hughes and the woodsy path writings illustrated by Robert Frost.
I’m finding my confidence in poetry and understanding that poetic styles are like fingerprints — unique. I won’t ever be like another, but I can still be the best finger-printer in my own right… 🤔I don’t think that makes much sense… But you get the idea.
Enjoy.
Gray City
Cloaked in gray,
This city hides itself from life.
Oh, but I see it!
Because I am alive!
And the tops of these towers,
Peek back at me,
As I single them out.
One.
Two.
Three.
This city is gray,
Underneath this cloak
Of mist and clouds
And clouds of mist.
