an automat whose orbs of light
reflect and touch the void of night
a refuge from the twenties’ roar
trapped in her thoughts without a door
a table, cup and gloveless hand
alone together in her land
a bowl of fruit that sits behind:
the 'still life' and her state of mind.
sipping cold coffee
staring into emptiness
counting tiny grounds
Copyright © 2009 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Sadness has come to steal
The moment that time has to reveal;
Until life becomes gradually futile
With depression that creates a nil.
Words have made one to feel
The love that has long been sealed,
But the risk has brought an ill
Response that almost killed…
Oh, heart that made love to spill
Over a gift from uphill;
Mistakes that never dominate what’s real,
Yet dilemma has allowed this to happen still.
Perchance hope never will
Give chance to a dying steel;
What fate could it ever deal?
Nothing but sorrow for the love resealed.
Evading sleep...dress,
Walk in the dark cold night, street lamps
Out of the darkness
Welcoming open doors of the automat
Stop and sip the hot bitter, sweet nectar
Reflecting my soul in your panes
While the city sleeps...
Because...I can.
For the contest by Brian Strand
Autumn at an Automat
Austere aloofness.
Assessment approbation.
Allays apathy.
Inspired by Brian Strand’s Imagine Contest
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Automat_(painting)
Poetic Form: Ekphrasis (Art Inspired) Haiku with Alliteration.