Inspired by Jacob Lawrence Harlem Series No.2

Ms. HaikuMs. Haiku Posts: 7,265
edited August 2004 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
She does not look at the food as if it
is a gift from God, abundant and shared.
She looks at it as coins available
for a trade. Just show a little more than
the white of her eye to remove the frayed
tablecloth. Show the white of a freshly
pressed dress that matches military
crosses. That white smells of a harsh winter.
She throws the coins like marbles hoping to
grab more as they roll away and fall
like a light inconsequential rain off
the table. Sunlight turns them from smudged to gold.
She locks the door and walks past each street sign,
offers an exchange, a challenge, a game.
There is no such thing as leftover pizza. There is now pizza and later pizza. - anonymous
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • I like this one very much.
  • ISNISN Posts: 1,700
    bibliobella this is brilliant....I wanted Finsbury to comment on it first, hoping he would explain why it's brilliant.....I don't know how to say why it's so well-formed, I just know that it is....hehehehhee
    ....they're asking me to prove why I should be allowed to stay with my baby in Australia, because I'm mentally ill......and they think I should leave......
  • Ms. HaikuMs. Haiku Posts: 7,265
    Hello and thank you! If you think this is brilliant, you should see the painting that inspired it.
    There is no such thing as leftover pizza. There is now pizza and later pizza. - anonymous
    The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
  • Originally posted by Bibliobella
    She does not look at the food as if it
    is a gift from God, abundant and shared.
    She looks at it as coins available
    for a trade. Just show a little more than
    the white of her eye to remove the frayed
    tablecloth. Show the white of a freshly
    pressed dress that matches military
    crosses. That white smells of a harsh winter.
    She throws the coins like marbles hoping to
    grab more as they roll away and fall
    like a light inconsequential rain off
    the table. Sunlight turns them from smudged to gold.
    She locks the door and walks past each street sign,
    offers an exchange, a challenge, a game.

    haha ISN I'm as speechless as you!! I can't even pick out the parts that jumped out at me because I'm not even sure. It's one of those writings that just... happens. And the reader is just taken in. I could picture everything. And now that I know it's a painting I wanna see! :p
    "At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet." --Plato

    www.myspace.com/birdinamitten
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