The Passenger

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I wish this car didn't have to take me there,
I wish that the compass on its dash didn't have to always point north,
The pavement, the streets,
They only point one way,
I wish the passing pavement would go faster underneath our feet,
I may be only a passenger, but I feel as if out destination isn't the driver's grim expectation,
Its my wild imagination's wildest dream,
Full of grass and fields, all glowing green,
The sky would be a blue kind of gray,
I may be a mere passenger but I know the way,
But the compass is set on eluding me,
It does not waver, nor quiver in its place,
And while it's easy to imagine that when the car stops, my feet will not on be stone but sand,
I've come to realize, with a certain painful ache, that in the end, it is only as it seems,
And I am just a passenger with a dream.

Thank you for reading! :D

Comments & reviews · 3
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TylynRae
Comment

Great usage of metaphors. I really liked this piece a lot. Keep it up =]

Hello! I'm here as requested. (:

I don't know much about poetry (the forms of writing it, rhyming, ect) but I do like to read it.

I've read your poem a couple times and I can totally relate to it. Especially so with this part:

I wish the passing pavement would go faster underneath our feet,
I may be only a passenger, but I feel as if out destination isn't the driver's grim expectation,
Its my wild imagination's wildest dream,
Full of grass and fields, all glowing green,


^ That is what I feel ALL the time when I'm in a vehicle. Great Job. (:

The ONE thing I would like to point out is all the commas. You have too many. Maybe try replacing some of them with periods or the " ; " symbol.
Otherwise, this is a good poem and I'll be sure to follow your work. (:

Keep Writing!
~DeadEnds

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Gracie
Review
Gracie wrote a review · Wed Apr 06, 2011 11:01 pm

Hi there.

I really like this.

I like the metaphor of the streets and pavement

The one thing I think you could work on is the inconsistent rhyme. It becomes quite frustrating trying to figure out "Is this a rhyming poem or not?" It takes away from some of the good qualities of the poem.
Besides that good job



In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
— JRR Tolkien