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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
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Genre of poetry touches such strings in the human soul, the existence of which a person either didn’t suspect, or lowered them to the very bottom, intending to give them delight.


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Read books online » Poetry » Tunnels by Angely Mercado (the red fox clan .txt) 📖

Book online «Tunnels by Angely Mercado (the red fox clan .txt) 📖». Author Angely Mercado




Myrtle and Wycoff.
Inside there are mothers
And fathers
Pushing strollers.
The movement of the car is steady and rocks
Everyone
To the same rhythm.
Somewhere
In this organized maze
A heart is beating.
It propels us through
The veins,
Through Dekalb
And Jefferson,
Morgan and
Montrose.
By Grand st.
The car is packed
And an idiot with a
Black hat
And a throwback, baggy polo shirt
Won’t close his legs.
I don’t get to sit.
Graham, then
Lorimer comes.
There is an exodus
That is then replaced by
G train migrants.
A man holds
His wife’s hand
And makes eyes at
A girl two seats down.
A tattooed and scarred hand
Clutches the same pole
That a smooth hand
Also holds on to.
Bedford ave.
There’s a second migration,
But this time it’s
Full of nose piercings
And grandma sweaters.
A short skirted mother with caramel highlights
Glares at the time.
We’ve hit a main artery
And the car rocks
To the speed.
Whose heart is it?
Mine?
Or does it belong
To the girl
With the sparkling flats?
1st ave
And a teenager
With huge neon blue headphones
Tries to read the
Poem that I’m writing
In my NOOK.
A small woman
In a somber
Suit slumps over.
She’s going to miss her stop.
She missed it last week.
Another idiot takes out his wallet
And counts his money.
He’s lucky that we’re not
Back at Dekalb.
3rd ave
And an electronic voice
Tells me that if I see
Something
I should say
Something.
A girl in stilettos tries to
Sway to the car’s rhythm.
She fails miserably
And stumbles.
14th Street Union Square.

Imprint

Text: Angely Mercado
Images: Angely Mercado
Publication Date: 05-31-2012

All Rights Reserved

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