Over the edge, four flights up

I opened the rusted iron gateway

bound in chain and wire, to find a landing

caked in muddied footprints, scattered about like roaches

Magpie shadows course the rain-soaked streets

and puddle patterns reflect temptation as light flickers

from second floor moan filled parlors, painted nails scratching

 

Navigating the fog entrenched alley, garbage bins fallen

create a maze of skinned shins and bloodied lips

when I come to an arched opening, only hinges remain

The staircase up is dark, creaking under my weight

I count the holes collected in plaster walls yawning,

prior frustrations showing no mercy

 

The stench of tar and factory waste wallows,

catching me stumbling through the opening to the roof,

gasping in the ever-thinning air

Dark clouds retaliate for earlier lost days

when stale bread pudding was a treat

served to those of less fortunate standing

 

What life is this to lead anyway, empty pockets

and hand me down promises, watching shadows below

taking chances and knocking up opportunities

Red door, black door, be careful which you choose,

for one color leads to the lower city,

the underground where opium flows like crazed sewage

 

The other holds within sexual fantasies

and red lipstick smudges,

but beware when jiggling those tarnished handles

with your best foolish grin,

the cost is what you can't afford to lose

 

Swine roam the busy square freely,

splurging on last night’s tossed garbage,

grunting approval in an off-key symphony

of stringless digestion, slobbering regurgitation

beyond the blinded eyes of the others

lost indefinitely within themselves

 

Streetlamps spit hot oil through fractured glass

dripping onto the formal evening wear

and diamond brooches worn by the elite,

making their way to the opera house where marble steps

are lined with evergreen topiaries

losing needles to the addicts of the night

 

A carriage passes, glazed eyes peer from lace curtains,

hidden hands roam freely the velvet seats and occupants,

as painted wheels follow ruts in the worn cobblestone

Smoke spews from stained brick chimneys and cracking mortar

discoloring the moon and choking stars

with a filth to be reckoned with

 

I sit on this rooftop alone, looking down,

scarred legs dangling over the edge four flights up,

wondering if anyone would care if I jumped

When startled by a noise behind me, footsteps perhaps

I turn to see the beautiful silhouette of a woman, flowing hair,

hand extended, "I would," she whispers...

Reviews

[Rita L. Sev]

I was interrupted three times while reading this, and each time I started over from the beginning. Each time, a different phrase stood out. I love the flow and imagery you have given here. I also love the much-needed Hope in a dark world…

[willweb]

Thank you so much Rita. I almost want to say, let's get the band back together! But, time changes everything but once again, it is so nice to see you here again. Here's hoping you find more free time at work and need a little poetry.

[emmajoygreen]

What a masterpiece of a poem here: a bewildering comparison of two worlds under one sky. The one sordid, muddled, full of the dark probabilities of life on one side of society to - the bright luxuries of carriage and diamond broach contributing a distinct hint of the upper echelons. This is almost a book, a script - a mystery: where to be, where from or to, answer needed, is there one?

Such a visual portrayal of two lives, bewildering; too many choices, too much to decide upon until.. someone whispers a would be, could be.. ending.

[willweb]

Thank you so very much my dear friend. I appreciate all of the kindness and flattering words you leave for me to find. Even in a dark world, some happiness can reside and if we really choose to look, there is no telling the beauty that we can find. Perhaps just a smile or a wonderful friendship to chase away the gloom, a garden of aromatic flowers to overpower the scent of the city waste or even an outstretched hand that seems to offer peace and maybe, just maybe...love. Thank you again Emma.

[Chris Shaw]

Fascinating write. An unexpected ending. Beautifully atmospheric and descriptive. Very much enjoyed will. Yes, you need to do a sequel. Your readers are intrigued.

Chris

[willweb]

Thanks so much Chris. I appreciate your visit to my poetic dark world

[Chris Shaw]

You are very welcome will.

[D. Mansfield]

That was a wonderful winding path to a beautiful end. Nice writing

[willweb]

Thanks so much my friend.

[Arundass TP]

Beautiful writing. Life always gives surprises.

[willweb]

Thank you so very much.

[Theona]

Very nice Will. She definitely cares and so should you, self-love too.

[willweb]

Thank you Theona

[Lorry]

Life is a bit like that Will. Choosing one over the next, saying yes instead of no, we make our best guesses and if the work out, put them down to luck or skill and if they don't, it's just further proof we are jinxed.
Nothing is ever skill anymore. We are either incredibly lucky or unfortunate. But even when considered lucky, we sometimes think we're not, as there are more fortunate souls, with mansions and three holidays a year, who we jealously regard as lucky sods!
You could be considered incredibly lucky for being here to write this, instead of a splat on the pavement. It's just perspective, when you think about it.

[willweb]

Thanks my friend, just me, hanging around rooftops again. Trying to prove I am not afraid of heights. : )

[geometry dash]

Hi! I could have sworn I've been to this site before but after going through some posts I realized it's new to me. However, I'm sure glad I found cookie clicker en and check back!

[JD Major]

An all 5-Senses episode, so well-written as always, a journey back in time, yet timeless, the inner-city homeless on the edge life and death. Don't know if you had it in mind, but your lines remind me so much of the Johnny Depp Jack the Ripper movie!

[JD Major]

Oh, and I love the (angel) ending! :)

[willweb]

Thanks so much my friend. I didn't have it in mind but I can see how you might think that. I can say the setting does make sense to my poem and the movie. I appreciate you reading this JD. Yep, the angel ending...had to have it, it was lonely up there on that roof. : )

[DIVYA]

Was she a mind reader...? It was so surreal to read.
This town is somewhere in the past when streetlamps lit with oil and carriages and not cars plied the roads. I enjoyed walking though the streets, smelling the smoke and the stench of tar and factory waste. I had fun imagining what was going on behind those red painted doors.
Loved this poem, Willweb.

[willweb]

Thank you Divya for taking the time to wander about my poem today. I am happy you had a good time while you were there.

[DIVYA]

You should write a sequel to this one. Its a very interesting setting. The reader wants to know more. It was such a pleasure to read.

[willweb]

We'll see. Maybe someday. : )

[DIVYA]

:))) will look forward to that!