General Poetry posted December 1, 2023

This work has reached the exceptional level
A poem in two parts. Reference-The Boulevard of Broken Dream

It's My Boulevard

by victortouche

                                                                      Part One
   Bought some extra string,
   three or four spools, I think.
   Ran hard 
   down that boulevard.
   Will it catch?
   Come on...catch.
   The wind, yes!
   Oh, hell yes.
   Goin' up, just a little.
   More, more, come on...
   Walked the kite a bit.
   More string, new spool,
   More wind.
   So far...
   So far away.
   Gave the spool to
   my five year old daughter.
   "Cut it", I said.
    "But daddy"
   "I know, honey. But do you feel
   the string a tuggin'?"
   "Yes, papa."
   "It wants to be free."
   "Cut it."
   String trails across the ground.
   Lifts off, and pulls through the trees.
   Free...finally free.
   Icarus became but a pinpoint.
   It deeply affected me.
   Part II
   Called to me.
   All my dreams were there.
   Street ain't broken.
   Only the dreams,
   only the...
   Walk that boulevard.
   You'll find your friends.
   There's more than five.
   Look to humanity
   to see them all.
   I still dream.
   Am I broken?
   I was...for a while.
   Walk that boulevard.
   Walk into your pain.
   Put on dem shoes,
   and boulevard 'em again.
   Dream a sassy dream,
   and strut some.
   After all, what are we?
   And dreams live,
   until you kill them.



I had to get out of the shower before I forgot all the words, ideas, phrases for this poem. Damn, I don't want-yeah, ok, do you want to forget??? Ok, I got out, soaking wet, and started to write down the poem. This kind of thing happens to me regularly,
In the car, pull over, etc. Why? 'Cause I've been moved. To the right side, the magic side. Ever wonder why people sing in the shower? Yep, same reason. Warm, pulsing water, relaxing, becoming worry free, ourselves again. I often never want to leave the shower. I often never want to leave...the right side. Have a little treat. Get in the shower, the hot tub, the man cave, with your partner, and again, refuse to
leave, refuse to be controlled, refuse to be...a slave to time, to responsibility. I think you'll find yourself again. And oh, what a feeling it dream again.

I hope you'll enjoy the poem. I know, how dare I make it so long?

victor touche
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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