Before an auction, you can view
The artwork that’s for sale.
It’s open to the public ‘til
The wealthy will prevail.
I stroll the galleries and stop,
My admiration strong,
And think about the people
To whom this will soon belong.
The current owners also have
A place within my head.
They’ll now have megabucks where once
These paintings hung instead.
Yet somehow none of this seems fair,
For art in private hands
Means that most of us will never see
What affluence commands…
Except before an auction
When, unlike the rich, the rest
Of the city comes to treasure
What they see, not to invest.
The auction began and I could feel my pulse patter,
If I don't get this house, my heart it may shatter.
I got my ducks in a row, when I saw the sale poster,
It's been a ride to get here, a real rollercoaster.
You see, the house was my Mama's, but she got in a rut,
The bank foreclosed, on the mortgage contract.
They kicked her out, it was such a calamity.
She was ashamed and embarrassed, questioning her sanity.
The sale day is here, and there is a huge crowd.
I must be the winner, for crying out loud.
The bids were swift, and the sale price kept rising,
I kept raising my paddle, I'd lost track of the pricing.
My hopes began to plummet, but the auctioneer said Sold,
He called my number, my bid had been bold.
I yelled "I won!" and I caught my Mama's eye.
She would have her home back, I knew that she would cry.
Today was a day that I will never forget,
Mama got her house back, and I have no regret.
The public is invited to
The auction house before
The art is bid on, sold and then
Is carried out the door.
Since I live close, I love to go
To check out the display
And wonder ‘bout the patrons -
All that money they might pay.
I couldn’t really picture
A Picasso on my wall
Next to pictures of my family –
That just wouldn’t work at all.
Plus, some modern pieces, which, to me,
Were boring or bizarre,
Were expected to fetch millions;
Famous painters raise the bar.
Still, I felt so privileged just to see
What private owners hold,
Even though it won’t be me
To whom the auctioneer yells, “Sold!”
quiet pillows
ebon noisemakers
brass-blows, red-green drums
tympanic lament of grief
solace throws on brown sofa
if you hold the ocean up to your ear
an old empty shell is what you will hear
a creature long dead that once called it home
his belongings sent to charity, all his stuff gone
sold by online auction or by family taken
but he’ll always be there as the sound of the ocean
Open to the public,
There are paintings to peruse,
Plus some sketches and some sculpture
For the connoisseur to choose.
On the days before an auction
I will wander through the space,
Wond’ring if there’s a Picasso
Or Monet I can embrace.
Just today I saw Pissarros,
Norman Rockwells and Matisse.
There were quite a few Chagalls
All hanging, waiting for release.
Though I’m lucky to be able
To see art that so enthralls,
Think how privileged are the buyers
Who’ll hang some on their own walls!
Drop of tear
Splash the floor
She remain still
Until the gush of wind tilt
Oh my goodness
Why I have to face such freak
No one deserve to be treated
Like this
Holy moly even the season
Change with it's pace
Look, being human
My life depends on others hand
Heart pound every sec
Tickle of rain drop
Swept my Pain
Wind whisper near my ear
" Fight yourself dear without fear"
This word buzz my ear
Until I spoke for myself
No means No and it should be over
Interesting to me that red coral looks so beautiful next to Turquoise
They go hand in hand like grass and trees and ducks and ponds
I kept going back to take one more peek
Just buy it! My girlfriend urged me.
I truly did want it, but I had already bought so much for myself.
You deserve it! My inner voice said. I went back for the sixth time.
I could take fifty cents off, the vendor said.
Sold!
Written: October 18, 2023, For Ink Empress Dodoitsu Contest
________________________________
soul auctioned out to mirage
hostile and harmful hardship
cunning, for the devil, grins
In pursuit of fame
In my neighborhood, there is
A well-known auction space
Where items are displayed before
The auction will take place.
It’s open to the public, so
Today we went to see
Some very famous songs composed
By Freddie Mercury.
So cool to see, in his own hand,
With doodles on the page,
The lyrics which I’ve heard
A thousand times, which still engage.
Why he crossed out “Mongolian”
Is anybody’s guess.
Was “Bohemian” with “Rhapsody”
More likely to impress?
The auction house had other
Special things to gaze upon
Before the day the auctioneer
Says, “Going, going, gone!”
Auction of emotions;
Shouting inside,
a switch that keeps getting flipped;
Calm to the highest bidder,
when is my chance to fly?
Sold so fast seems I just can't afford to buy it;
Is peace designed for the rich?
Grasping for harmony soaked in a sea
of chaos, as I drown lying in the rain;
Natural levee suddenly fails me
and everything inside comes flowing,
so fast I can't seem to control it;
Closing my mind to the reflection
of dead eyes on teardrops;
Flash flood of feelings rush me,
so I try to dance;
Grasping for harmony
soaked in a sea of chaos I try again;
A battered bidder in this auction of emotions.
Sky came with a hammer
To bid an auction of two colors
Green and blue to sell
Sea gained blue
Land signed for green
We had cried to the scorching sun
An expression of youthful forlorn
An orchestration to air our needs
Peaceful but firm were our deeds
Alas! the heralds of her arrival
Our mother ! A hope beclouding hopelessness
Together we scrambled around her entourage
Like wailing babes in need of a mother's massage
But our mama had renamed herself as barren
And turned deaf to the cries of her expectant children
We craved a rescue from our partial darkness
Only to be graced with permanent blackness
Our only crime was the belief in democracy
A misapprehension! A mirage ! A meticulous mockery !
Shots of bullets against our unarmed bodies
Battered,bruised and yet rebirthed as hoodlums
For where is the future of this shambolic nation
If the leaders of tomorrow are perishing today?
When shall justice be not portrayed as auction
Haggled and bought by only the highest pay?
By:Elizabeth O Adams
Lizdiamond world of poetry
The little girl
set free the red balloon
it flew over a certain death
free from the pain
of auction
the little girl
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I'm just a poor piece of cloth cut from my mistresses frock and
with a pattern that's seen better days, but Harriot Powers saw me, and said you look special to me.
She was born to a slave in a bygone age when injustice and servitude ruled.
One thing helped her stand tall and helped save her soul and that was her god given faith.
To show her respect she began to sew and to stitch, so as to tell her gods tale
Four quilts told the tale how god will prevail and goodness and truth win the day.
Who would have thought that making a quilt to keep warm, would make her famous today.
As one quilt now hangs with pride on the wall of a very famous hall for the people to see .
Harriott long ago passed by, but now uses her needle and thread with the angels instead
and Its heard often said that Gabriel himself uses one of her quilts on his bed .
Value only 4 quilts in the world one missing this one $1.000.000 to you
TRUE STORY LOL
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harriet_Powers#Work
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