My Cane

My cane of white clatters against cavities in the concrete
and threads through these city streets
like my fingers through your scalp on a cool Sunday night.
And oh, how the scent of your hair is sweet.
We tip-toe quietly past the honks and shrieks
that flow through the makings of this sleepless jungle
of glass and steel
fueled by the pitter patter of infinite descending heels.

How beautiful you must appear,
wandering through this madness with a simple stride
and quiet lips as silent as the lens shading your eyes.

So follow right behind me
and let your toes scratch sweet nothings into my heels
every now and then
so I may know that you’re still here,
with me.
Let my cane guide our four feet
and if an obstacle flies under the radar,
let me take the hit so that you may walk the safer path.
Allow me to guide you in this darkness
that has consumed us
with this beacon beating in my chest.

Comments & reviews · 3
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StreetRat
Comment

This is completely beautiful. You are very talented. Keep up the good work!

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dante93
Comment

I like the poem, but the stanzas are a bit hard to focus on.I would suggest making the long lines a bit shorter. It would create a few more stanzas, but it would be worth it as thepoem would be much easier to read.

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blackbird12
Review

clee0 wrote:My cane of white clatters against cavities in the concrete
and threads through these city streets
like my fingers through your scalp on a cool Sunday night.


Very nice beginning to the poem. I also like the phrases "sleepless jungle," This is an interesting work but it doesn't feel like poetry to me, it feels more like prose that was simply put into lines of verse. There's not a definite rhythm to the poem. I think if you use use less words, your language might come out more poetic and rhythmic. I enjoy very much the final three lines, though.



I don't care what the miserable excuse is for showing the death of books, live, on screen. Men, I could understand; but books! -
— Edwin Morgan, From the Video Box 2