Winter in that city ripped the warmth from my soul.
All those faceless people with frozen hearts and minds,
Alive but not living, pushing… rushing…struggling
Like rats scuttling in and out of nameless places
Life there was for dreamers and only the young have
Any dreams left to give. There’s no inspiration
There for a man too old for imagination.
Not there among all those hurried, screaming masses
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Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
Almost Meaningful
Jerry Brotherton 
“…for a man too old for imagination.” Now that’s a depressing thought, especially for an old geezer like me.
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I am sure you still have plenty of get up and go. I just prefer the noise of crickets and bullfrogs over the honk of horns.
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That’s a well-crafted poem, Jerry, with a powerful impact. I could hear the words spoken from the very first word. I think you are close to your authentic poet’s voice in that piece.
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Thanks, I am at heart, ‘just an ole country boy’
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Your poem is strong and good.
I do differ in opinion about the people though. Sure, like big cities it is rushed
but during several visits I met many “angels” there. People who would take time
and go the extra mile to help you out.
I think I will write a poem about those angels…in the midst of the mad rush.:)
Miriam
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There are many Angels and good friends. It is age that easily confuses me. A simpler life style is easier to live when the mind gets muddled.
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Great perception well conveyed, reminds me of soul bereft London, give me an uninterrupted songbird’s dawn chorus, free from urban blight any day.
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The city has a place and a time for everyone. I just need to sit and watch fireflies in the backyard and let the last of my life envelope me.
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yes powerfully written and clearly visualised just how I imagine NYC to be but I am sure there must be angels in the midst … give me nature any day over a city :)
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Yes, many Angels and many Demons. The City feeds on peoples imaginations to keep it going. This is why small downs die… those with the greatest imaginations move on.
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Well said, Jerry. There speaks a true Country Boy. They can take the heart out of the Country, but they can’t take the Country out of our hearts.
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When I was younger, I could not wait to escape to city life. The bright lights, the noise, and there was always something happening. But now, my mind is not quick enough to keep up with so much stimulation. Give me green grass, an open sky and stars to gaze upon.
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My own story is very much as your own then, Jerry.
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I am still not living where I want to be. Though Helena, Montana is a fairly small city, it is not the place I want to be. But I suppose that Wakenda, Missouri only exists in my mind now.
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Excellent poetry Jerry. I visited New York for the first time a couple of years ago and spent most of the time in Central Park. It is like an oasis in a desert.
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I suppose, every place (and everything) has its good and bad. When the bad starts to out weigh the good, it is time for change. Whether it be cities, people or politics. Thanks for stopping by.
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A pleasure Jerry.
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Thanks for replying to my comment, jerry. Can I apologise for appearing not to have ‘Liked’ your comments and blogs. Something the matter with my WordPress buttons – they work only when they feel like it, and on some sites but not others.
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Not a problem Roland. Thanks for stopping by.
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