Fumble at the Lounge

Member since 2003 · Posted 27 Jun 2004 · 1 comment

Sprawled out on the couch Dreaming, sulking, smiling a pout. Dazing into a trance I wonder what? I turn to her, she doesn't budge. Wide-eyed perfection. Does she need affection? Feebishly showing her shoulders I breathlessly watch without her notice. Ashamed of my position, ashamed of my class I sit in the corner and I fumble the pass.

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1 comment

[4] nentwined 28-Jun-04/7:47 PM Reply

The metaphor is somewhat interesting, but overall it doesn't have enough rhythm for me; the lines jerk from one to the next. The half-rhyme of 'couch' and 'pout' really doesn't work for me. I think the poem could be more interesting if you explored the metaphor a bit more directly and left the broad statements to be assumed.

Hope this is somewhat helpful...