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Open Poetry #33
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Magnus
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Member Laureate
since 2001-10-10
Posts 14135
South Carolina, USA

0 posted 2004-07-07 06:43 PM


The steak’s gristle warring with a stained molar,  
attempting to chew what certainly was paid dearly for.
Coffee, laced delicately with cream and heavily with
sugar steamed lazily on the polished wood counter
of a diner far past it’s prime and into antiquity.

How many souls had sat, staring over the brim of
a cup into the old oval mirror which leaked light
through various holes in the coating?    How many
destinies had been culminated in the mere time of
perhaps a quarter of an hour as fifty cents twirled
lazily and the stool seat turned slowly from the
departure of just one of many who graced it with
their weight.  

Would the stool groan when a heavy woman
clad in a flowered dress three sizes too large sat down?
Or would it just sit there quietly absorbing the body
heat, waiting for the pressure to relieve,
a silent sigh escaping.

The waitress,  too old for fast food and too young for
most of the old fogies who sat at tables, reminiscing over
past affairs, old songs, movies and card games that had
been played and rehashed over the years.    She smiled
briefly, knowing that one would surely try to pat her
rear.

Outside, the afternoon crowd  walked briskly by,  headed
for a station beneath the streets, a subway turnstile squeaking
as each passed through, the clunk of a token  rhythmically
sounding as each fare was paid...paid in full....or else.   The
struggles of a young mother and a stroller, jarring a giggling
child as each step fell behind and the next stood ominously
before tiny tires, still holding their tread.  The flush of her
face highlighting smooth cheeks as she awkwardly approached
the final step.

Small lives, big city bustle, the fumes of countless buses hanging
heavily in the air.  Rain would wash clear this smog, bringing
lunch to the gutters that hungrily swallowed each morsel before
the street sweeper came through long after quiet had crept into
the late afternoon sky.  A time when pigeons cooed lazily on
granite facades.  A time when life slowed down and another
set of eyes gazed over a cup of hot coffee, pondering what they
saw in that mirror of reflection....and an old man day dreamed of
a waitresses rear...


© Copyright 2004 Barry J. Tackett - All Rights Reserved
Susan
Member Ascendant
since 2004-03-27
Posts 5104
walking the surreal
1 posted 2004-07-07 07:15 PM


You, dear sir, have quite the way with bringing life into picture.  I got the feel of the old time dective novels when I read this.  Thanks for the look at a life so different from mine.

  Susan

Happiness isn't something that happens to you, it's created from within you.  Joy is a state of mind.

BluesSerenade
Member Patricius
since 2001-10-23
Posts 10549
By the Seaside
2 posted 2004-07-07 07:22 PM


You tell a fine story Barry!!
I loved the setting and the assorted  reflections in the mirror.

Bravo Sir~

Soleil Noir
Senior Member
since 2001-12-19
Posts 688
USA
3 posted 2004-09-21 10:10 AM


Poesy...

poem and prose...

A delightful read, and full of full ends...

LeeJ
Member Patricius
since 2003-06-19
Posts 13296

4 posted 2004-09-21 10:20 AM


soft smiles
I liked this a lot

Susan
Member Ascendant
since 2004-03-27
Posts 5104
walking the surreal
5 posted 2004-09-21 10:26 AM


I am soooo glad this popped back up!  Rereading it and once again the atmosphere of the world you created swallowed me whole.  You are a marvel, dear sir, at your craft-

  susan

Happiness isn't something that happens to you, it's created from within you.  Joy is a state of mind.

Ericc
Member Elite
since 2003-01-31
Posts 4178

6 posted 2004-09-21 11:40 AM


Such vivid imagery!

Wonderful write.

Eric

suthern
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Member Seraphic
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723
Louisiana
7 posted 2004-09-22 09:20 AM


It is easy for a poem to engage my sight... but when I hear and smell and literally taste the poem... I know I've found magic. *S* Excellent write!
Pilgrimage
Member Elite
since 2001-12-04
Posts 3945
Texas, USA
8 posted 2004-09-22 03:11 PM


I felt myself in the cafe-I could almost smell the frying grease.  This is well-done.

Nan (Pilgrim variety)

Marge Tindal
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Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384
Florida's Foreverly Shores
9 posted 2004-09-22 04:43 PM


Magnus~
Yep ... you took me there ...
my THERE being The Spot Diner~

You pen a good tale, brimming with the reality of life~
*Huglets*
~*Marge*~

~*When the heart grieves over what it has lost,
the spirit rejoices over what it has left.
- Sufi epigram <))><

Email noles1@totcon.com

passing shadows
Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577
displaced
10 posted 2004-09-22 07:08 PM


you have a way of transporting the reader


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