Open Poetry #48 |
Sunday |
roomandboard Junior Member
since 2011-12-21
Posts 13 |
What a harsh day to choose celebration. Wedding party huddled on steps. Dark cherry wood stands bright, well kempt. Brass bells on the side of the steeple are cracked and corroded. One cross looms above the building. Stained glass whispers. Trudging in knee high mid-winter wet, silent sidewalks. Sun glows high, reflecting off the white, making it hard to see. Cars are buried, slush is starting to form, as morning moves. Bellowing voices of broken down men, every bar stool is taken – it’s hot. A different kind of worship. Spiked hot chocolate and then a nap. Newspapers in the side stand are ruined; green awnings are still pulled in; the produce isn’t out today. The world has forgotten itself. |
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BluesSerenade Member Patricius
since 2001-10-23
Posts 10549By the Seaside |
You capture a slice of life so well...however dreary the day may be. Good job... |
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paderewski Member
since 2011-02-04
Posts 287Louisiana, USA |
Hah! You brought the gloom and dreary place alive with your sharp thoughts and lines of this poem. ~*~ Haunted French pancakes give me the crepes. ~*~ |
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paderewski Member
since 2011-02-04
Posts 287Louisiana, USA |
I know I commented, but I can't see it. I'll try it again. You portrayed the gloom and dreary landscape with the insightful and pinpoint accuracy of this poem. ~*~ Haunted French pancakes give me the crepes. ~*~ |
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roomandboard Junior Member
since 2011-12-21
Posts 13 |
Thanks for the comments! |
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