Open Poetry #50 |
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A Flash In The Pan Of Penelope: The Table Was Set In Its Woeful Ways... |
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Bluesy Socrateaser Member Elite
since 2002-11-07
Posts 2417In The Mirror ![]() |
Flittering gnats dream themselves locusts as they find a little bit of Egypt on her shoulder Oiled cast iron skillet sizzles like falling rain while gasping onions His chapped hand reaches out to touch her fingers She schleps the potatoes and oil Her thoughts harden into the hot iron pan The table rises from the floor as he seats himself The paper unfolds its pages as she eyes the man she once knew, viewing now his lackadaisical ways He struggles to escape all that he can remember while making a study of old news From memories, he tries to beckon her to his will, but she refuses to leave the stove She doesn't turn when he touches her arm She knows he’s only begging for something else ...to fill his hands ![]() ...just bein' Bluesy |
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Lori Grosser Rhoden Member Patricius
since 2009-10-10
Posts 10202Fair to middlin' of nowhere |
Gosh, Bluesy, You sure can tell a story. You have got about the grittiest nitty I've ever read. You skimmed the surface of a very human condition and revealed some deep pockets. I think you are a keen observer of people and body language to be able to write this way. You made me feel a lot of emotions for these two, none of it pleasant. Very well done my friend. (A toast to your poem. I am jelly!) ~L |
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Bluesy Socrateaser Member Elite
since 2002-11-07
Posts 2417In The Mirror |
We see much drama in the "human condition", don't we, Miss Lori? But then, you and I soften its blow with humor, and that gets us through it all. You? Jelly? Aww! That's because you're so damn sweet! See ya! ![]() ...just bein' Bluesy |
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