broken heart


  • Love
  • ,
  • Life

    Poem Commentary

    Merryville Theater circa 1958'

    broken heart

    The sound of the flapping of broken celluloid film

    the theater lights come on

    vanishing the dark.

    The reverie and the dream escape

    in a whoosh of reality.

    I sit in my sit

    as if I am naked.

    subtly looking around

    to see who is where

    to see if anyone is looking at me.

    I stare at the used gum

    stuck to the back of the seat in front of me.

    I study a pitiful mass of popcorn and spilt coke

    moving like molten lava

    making it’s way down the slope

    capturing other fallen popcorn along the way.

    From the corners of my eyes I see

    the older guys

    easing their arms back

    from their girl’s shoulders

    or from some other place.

    The defects of a small town theater

    exposed by the light.

    I am exposed

    I am 12.

    I see the girl that I have a crush on.

    she is with the 15 year old football player,

    his arms wrapped in the leather sleeves

    of a football letter jacket,

    one draped confidently around her shoulder.

    A letter jacket he earned at 15,.

    a jacket that I will never wear.

    I have a coke in my hand

    popcorn between my legs

    I am nothing,

    less than the wad of gum

    that I am staring at.

    Ssome of the guys start to hoot and holler


    for the movie to continue.

    The lights go off

    the projectors whirs

    the dream resumes.

    From his cell Marlon Brando points a little

    derringer at Slim Pickens,

    calls him a ‘tub of guts’ a ‘bucket of spit’

    bluffs him with a little derringer with no bullets.

    Slim Pickens, head down feet cowardly shuffling

    opens the cell door.

    Marlon Brando get’s out of jail.

    in the street I am holding his horse.

    Brando ‘the one-eyed Jack’ and I ride out of town at a hard gallop

    to win the girl with the letterman’s jacket

    around her shoulders.

    ‘you can tell it to the sky/the trees do not want to hear it

    nobody wants to know/inside your deepest heart’

    John Fowles - Poems

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    Teardrops commented on broken heart


    I remember the first party i went to we played spin the bottle and a guy i liked kissed me . Yes young and in love I was lucky once maybe its out there again . Great poem lane truly a one to be published Marie

    Mareann commented on broken heart


    Feelings we all share as we go through adolecence, and adult life. Love is beautiful and love is painful... This poem is a gentle reminder of our youth , love and crushes.... Wow, did this bring back memories? Thanks for sharing, Mary



    Thank you Mary..It is so nice to read that it brought back memories for all happened just as i wrote it..small town theatre..I was 12 or 13..and that was a long long time ago! Lane

    Poetry comes nearer to vital truth than history.

    Plato (BC 427-BC 347) Greek philosopher.

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