Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

My last day in a small town.

Trees, their twigs and branches intertwined,
I stay,

in the middle of the street. My arms,

just like the bird’s wings.
Thinking about,

how scared I am.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


that this is personal experience. I really get the feeling of a small town, a town so small that you might stand in the middle of the street for an extended period, and not have to move because of traffic. I sense the anguish of wanting to leave, to see
the rest of the world, and yet reluctance to leave the safety of the place you have grown up in, a place you are comfortable. I get the symbolism in the trees with twigs and branches intertwined, but arms like wings aching to fly. Great stuff.~ Geezer.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

(c) No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.