SHADES OF GREY • by Scott Neighbour

Sunday driving
A rain grey day
We happen upon the fallen

I’ve told my son
Help your fellow man
When you can

The man I thought to be a drunk
Is anything but
“Look away”
But the damage is done

I move to the man I know to be dead
Two bullets to the head
His blood pools in his nose

Gutter waters red
Crimson flows
But he’s not dead, no
My fingers on his pulse tell me so

His mouth agape
His face draining of colour
Suddenly, I realize
That the white plugs
Keeping his flow within
Is the same grey matter that makes our decisions
Alerts us to pain

It’s his brain
Pressing out
Through two perfectly aligned
Entry wounds

My emergency mind wears off
And I finally see
Stark, naked reality
Like a slap in the face
 
My young blood watches
He wonders what I’ve seen
Silence is all I can muster

Scott Neighbour is a husband and a father of two boys. He lives on the west coast of Canada and enjoys making music, writing and photography.

Posted on January 27, 2010 in Surreal
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3 Responses to “SHADES OF GREY • by Scott Neighbour”


  1. Roberta SchulbergGoro Says:
    January 27th, 2010 at 8:18 am

    Poor incidental rhyme, no rhythm, no cadence. Dull story. And mimosa bushes and ballet dancers are as much a naked reality as the starkness of bloody scenes. Needs a lot more muster.

  2. Jeff Says:
    January 27th, 2010 at 9:16 am

    I think the second to last stanza is unnecessary as it sums up and describes the purpose of the poem–within the poem. Heavy handed.

    I think the second stanza is unecessarily editorial in nature.

    I believe a really good poem is buried in here. Very strong albeit shocking imagery could be used to make a powerful statement. But you don’t need to make sure teh reader “gets it”–that’s his job.

  3. Scott Says:
    January 27th, 2010 at 10:35 am

    excellent comments…these are the comments that catch my eye the most…no ego massaging is required to truly learn what people want and appreciate.

    there was no underlying statement or story here that I was trying to portray…just a commentary on what I witnessed.

    thanks so much for coming by and reading it.

    S.

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