The house lights come up revealing an empty room With glass-stained tables and litter strewn on the floor The air hangs quiet like the stillness of a tomb Red exit signs stand like sentries above the doors
Vanished the frenzied, glittering, pulsating life The smoky, mysterious allure of shadows Sharp-edged sirens whose cold beauty cuts like a knife Seekers of night’s pleasures living out their credos
In a crowded room with a throbbing, driving beat Searching for intimacy amidst a bleak scene Fanning the blood to heights of passionate, white heat From this hollow delusion can one be redeemed?
Red exit signs stand like sentries above the doors The air hangs quiet like the stillness of a tomb With glass-stained tables and litter strewn on the floor The house lights come up revealing an empty room.
An ekphrasis inspired by John Singer Sargent’s “Portrait of Madame X.”
“Portrait of Madame X” by John Singer Sargent
In Praise of Her Beauty By PoeticMeditations
Lush, auburn tresses cascading upon Alabaster shoulders soft as a fawn Eyes of bright, sparkling emerald gems Elegant and lithe her smooth, supple limbs Soft, pliant lips – sweet nectar to imbibe Breasts twin orbs of paradisial delight Rare, breathless beauty that commands the sight Vision of loveliness – image sublime Fashioned by heaven – perfection divine.
STARVING POET: At the suggestion of my buddy, PoeticMeditations (WordPress) aka Poetinagarret (Twitter), I wrote this Starbucks version of my previous poem that I posted on his blog and Twitter account, “DQ Dude”; he being more of a café kind of dude, and I, more like a Dairy Queen sort of fellow. In spite of our differences, he and I are still good buddies. We have a lot in common: we both love/write poetry and both are dirt poor. I also sent this off to Starbucks HQ hopin’ to get some free coupons.
STARBUCKS DUDE By StarvingPoet
I’m a Starbucks Dude in a DQ world Live my preference like a banner unfurled Love that the recessed, subdued, soft kind of light Not that harsh lighting: fluorescent and bright Hate the hard, plastic seats and white table tops Starbucks’ plush decor pulls out all the stops Tall, coconut milk, cascara latte! Not just reg or decaf — the DQ way Can snack all day on their cremenilli A BeltBuster is the last thing I need A barista not a short-order cook Café life for me, not some boring book In a DQ world, I’m a Starbucks Dude The common life? I’m just not in the mood.
STARVING POET: Thanks to my good buddy, PoeticMed, for letting me guest blog and use his Twitter feed, so I could post my latest creation. I did send it off to the Dairy Queen head office hoping to snag a few BeltBuster coupons or at least a couple of Blizzard coupons, but nooo – all I got was what looked like a standard reply telling me how they appreciate me taking the time to write, and that they would pass on my praise to the appropriate personnel. For my transatlantic fans (if I have any), DQ is short for Dairy Queen, a fast-food restaurant that pre-dates MacDonalds.
DQ DUDE By StarvingPoet
I’m a DQ Dude in a Starbucks world Live my preference like a banner unfurled I like my lighting fluorescent and bright None of the recessed, subdued kind of light Like the hard, plastic seats and white table tops Not plush, upholstered chairs designed for fops Tall, coconut milk, cascara latte? Reg or decaf is the DQ way! I’ll pass on the snack tray cremenilli A juicy BeltBuster is all I need No barista just a short-order cook Simple life for me, but not by some book In a Starbucks world, I’m a DQ Dude Fancy coffee? I’m just not in the mood.
Late at night, the forlorn wail of a distant train Calls me back when as a youth on warm summer nights Abed with the darkness outside the window pane Dreaming of faraway places with their delights
That lay beyond the four borders of this small town Of loves that yet await me in the far-off years Not knowing where my fated destiny was bound Or if my lot would be fortune or grief and tears
Now I find myself here with all these years flown past Abed with the darkness outside the window pane Knowing love, hope, and happiness can never last Late at night, the forlorn wail of a distant train.