Godfrey Torrance

Rookie - 74 Points (July 19,1995 / Jacksonville, Florida)

Greek - Poem by Godfrey Torrance

It’s an imminent improbability
An ancient civilization altered to become
Something of ambiguously dissimilar personality

Would it be, then, that patrons of this distasteful society
travel the darkened streets with a notion of predestined superiority
planted in the back of their heads?

Living within the mind, altering decision making to benefit the self?
No.
A conformist outlook shapes the patrons of this ominous society
Mustering a figure through the eyes of its possessive painter.

It lands on the academy with a step of conquering disposition
emitting a beacon for all to see and hear,
To come climbing out of their congested residences —
To travel along the same o’er - darkened streets, to ask an inordinate question:
“Will I be received as one of them? ”

Within a minute questions lift and drop determining their fate.

Does this beacon of hope, possibility, and ambition
Cloud the judgment of those affected by such inquisitions?
To say, “Will you be mine? ” to ask “Can I join, ” or “Are you willing? ”

When the light of day rises upon the patrons of such societies, it’s too late.

Prufrock’s disposition falls upon the others who miss a moment,
Who fail to arrive in time, and out of curiosity.
If at this time one were to lift such inquisitions to one residing amongst them
Saying, “Oh, be mine.”
To know much of the world is a virtue, but at times a curse
To understand the dealings of those less inclined,
To understand the colloquy amongst them,
To still remain on the exterior of such dealings
It would be greeted with a response of unforgiving nature.

They say, “I’m taken, ” or “you’re not one of us, ”
The common response from such constituents.

The neglect of advantages taken
The failure to regard one with substantial favor,
To arrive at ground zero, to respond to the beacon,
To bring to them the death of the romantics
Is why such among them remain unseen, neglected, and left behind.

The calendar year comes to a close
The beacon no longer emits, it’s duty done.
There is hope for no one yet.
The life of an independent leaning toward
Meaningless passion for one of higher standing
Meaning nothing to those it moves toward
Sympathy not taken before us.
Our indecision decides our fate, and among the others, I speak for them, those forgotten and lost, those who never had their chance, for love, friendship, and unity
The system is flawed.

Topic(s) of this poem: sad love

Form: Blues Poem


Poet's Notes about The Poem

I was talking one night with my friend about how all the sorority girls at my college must have a beacon when they step on campus, allowing them to attract all the sororities and guys, so they might acquire a bid and a boyfriend. I explained it is the reason most of them are all taken, and why we can't find anyone worth dating.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, March 9, 2015



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