Blissfully oblivious
New member
For an English assignment, the class was told to write a short poem on a vivid memory. My teacher asked us to include a lot of figurative language, as part of the assignment. So, I'm wondering, do you feel that I included enough figurative language? Also, do you have any suggestions/comments on my piece as a whole? Please keep in mind that I wrote this in thirty minutes, so it isn't too great. Thanks for your help, though! <3
The City
Driving dreadfully slow down the street
laced with the malicious scent of
cocaine, alcohol, heroin.
Windows are kept closed, but it seeps into
the car, uninvited.
Fresh, clean air is a complex myth here,
something I take for granted back
home.
Crinkled Styrofoam cups.
Lonely shreds of newspapers.
Abandoned plastic bags.
Toxic eyes and poker faces, smothering:
criminals, maybe; mystery, maybe;
strangers, yes.
Mama’s restless digits play the lock switches
like keys on a piano.
Palms sweating, hearts racing, teeth chattering;
consumed by the moment, digested by
trepidation.
Soiled dreams and goals.
Lifeless, helpless characters.
Constance of alienation.
A creature leans against the brick wall,
tucks himself into battered clothes;
unfortunate soul.
Glances up and smiles a cigarette-stained
smile – his last hope.
It’s a sad and bitter life, some may say,
but welcome to the real world,
porcelain doll.
The City
Driving dreadfully slow down the street
laced with the malicious scent of
cocaine, alcohol, heroin.
Windows are kept closed, but it seeps into
the car, uninvited.
Fresh, clean air is a complex myth here,
something I take for granted back
home.
Crinkled Styrofoam cups.
Lonely shreds of newspapers.
Abandoned plastic bags.
Toxic eyes and poker faces, smothering:
criminals, maybe; mystery, maybe;
strangers, yes.
Mama’s restless digits play the lock switches
like keys on a piano.
Palms sweating, hearts racing, teeth chattering;
consumed by the moment, digested by
trepidation.
Soiled dreams and goals.
Lifeless, helpless characters.
Constance of alienation.
A creature leans against the brick wall,
tucks himself into battered clothes;
unfortunate soul.
Glances up and smiles a cigarette-stained
smile – his last hope.
It’s a sad and bitter life, some may say,
but welcome to the real world,
porcelain doll.