Tuesday, April 30, 2013

A Poem by Barbara Sutton and Lance Sheridan



the mulberry street incident   
 
"the bend"
'a tortuous ravine of tall tenement-houses'
where the 

downpour rain 
running water gorges street cracks open
like all

undisciplined lives 
of immigrant children playing ball with a 
stick, hit

it slick 
like ice through a 'Puck' building window,
reflections in

broken glass 
show mulberry trees swaying similar to
drunks trying

to hold 
up crack brick 'roost' alleyway mortar; 
flatfoots with

a slick
ice grip use trash can lids like irish knight
armor to

fend off 
dumb mick mob switchblade knife blade
rusted cut;

the huddled 
masses walk in manured covered streets 
to avoid 

vendor's 'slinging
the crap' on every square inch of cement
pavement; pickpockets

procure the 
rest much like naval press gangs soliciting
lint out
 
of poecketless
pants; hollow-eyed mothers of the motherless
street urchins
 
trudge, heads
down and spirits broken, down the filthy avenue
remembering the
 
false promises
of streets paved in gold; noise of the crowded street
never ceasing,
 
always the
babble of so many screams trying to be heard, sucked
into the
 
tenement brick
like downpour rain, to echo in crowded sweatshops where
hope dies,
 
but dreams
live, even if it's one dream that makes it out, much like
an echo
 
creeping along,
creeping, cat paw similar in 'roost' alleyway mortar,
silent, unnoticed . . .

                                                              
                                                                                                                                       

Barbara Sutton and Lance Sheridan began writing poetry together in January of 2013. Having penned almost a dozen poems in visual freestyle, eight of those have been accepted into numerous journals. What other poets are saying about their writing, "you send the reader on a journey through his own soul;” "symbolically thought provoking"; "the imagery is amazing;" and, “this is a sort of writing which deliberately flouts grammatical structure and any form of restriction. It is not words. It is more music you relax to, curl up listening with an abstract ear.” All of their writings are in Visual Freestyle Works® ’We sift the human storm, the life storm, through the dust and debris of their souls, animating it into thoughts and words. And then we write, not guessing where it might go, exhaling our last breath toward the light.'

1 comment:

  1. These two writers are demonstrating how the minds of two people can interconnect to bring readers profound writings. I would rate this poem as being profound & excellent. BKSmith, Writer

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