Within this maze of memories
The electric evening begins,
Magnificent structures cast shadows
As people seek refuge from sin.
And we’ll sit again amidst wild cities
And lonely, tired streets,
As impoverished walls become drawing boards
And shadowy corners house seats.
The street lamps echo their song of hope
Throughout this city of light,
And evil men become visible
As a nation fades into night.
This latent moon above us
These walkways underneath,
Dwellers and thieves among us
Dirt and dust beneath.
And busy streets become still
As the night bestows tranquility,
And the gentle wind soon whispers
Its’ poetic verse of mystery.
For we are all defenders of this proud land
And what worthless fools we may seem,
Shackled to this skin,
This life, this death, this dream.
Winner of The Walt Whitman Association’s High School Poetry Contest
Published Fall 1992 in “Conversations” A Newsletter of The Walt Whitman Association
Judges’ comments: This poem was formally very strong with an excellent and controlled use of rhyme throughout. It also communicated a nocturnal and dream-like mood. |
