Colin Coplin

Rookie - 4 Points (Australia)

Rhapsody While Walking Home - Poem by Colin Coplin

A cold wind’s a blowing, down this empty street
Last weeks headlines, chases itself around my feet
Somewhere in the distance, a car is heard to screech
As a tired old traffic light, gives me a bloodshot wink

I’m alone, walking home, for the first time in nine years
Viewing scenes, of daily things, on these Renoir streets
I’m city bread, so are the books I’ve read, this cities a wonderful book
Take time to read it, take time to look
In her prince and pauper melody, tonight she whispers to me
As I’m walking home

Sitting sheltered in the subway reading who loved who last year
By passing the phantom poet, whose poem still sounds so clear
It was the only piece of paper I found when I was last through here

You can be so cruel, so kind, a paradox on city blocks, supremely divine
Warm as old sunshine, cold as diamonds in the fall,
Antique belleck, or double speak, a concubine to all

“City in fear painted on the burnt out walls
Housing projects built like tombstones for the poor
God is king, Opium dropped his pants
Talking to Salvation, who knows he’s only got one chance”

“Smiling is crying, it’s sad to see her down
Yesterday on Bourbon Street, they say she tried to drown
While Innocent Sister remains a believer, chases another Barbara Cartland romance
Found a week latter face down in the gutter, with her mother, both never stood a chance”

“Silence yawns, in contentment his pockets now lined with gold
As TV bleeds another drop, a new soap opera coiled ready to explode
Behind the numbers on every doors, the Fire Escape seductively screams
While the hungry haunted Heroin spikes another childhood dream”

Try and change it and they’ll kill us
If we leave, then God we’re damned.
Do what you can”

You can be so cruel, so kind, a paradox on city blocks, supremely divine
Warm as old sunshine, cold as diamonds in the fall,
Antique belleck, or double speak, a concubine to all

“But horror is soon forgotten, as she hold hands with Hope
And as the rain falls down to cleanse the dirty ground
Rebel knows the truth

The subway’s filled with tomorrow’s hero’s, dressed in T-Shirts of prophecy
Their masses swell like an ink blot spill, across the pages of this street directory
To reveal a brief glimpse of a promise that leaps and dances like Gene Kelly singing in the rain
And every old city block, gets recarved by Howard Roark
As the melody from happier days plays on the jukebox hit parade”

As the silent scent of hamburger scribbles hunger on my brain
But no neon sign’s breeding life tonight and it’s about to rain

You can be so cruel, so kind, a paradox on city blocks, supremely divine
Warm as old sunshine, cold as diamond in the fall
A Hitchcock bird or heaven’s password, dressed in rags or Dior

Copyright Colin Coplin 2006 (Updated 2010)


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 29, 2011



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