Best Hopper Poems

exposed and heart beating,
in the quiet of the hum.  

every thought bounces off the walls,  
ricochet, causing my stillness.  

nothing beyond this space,  
inertia tells me so.  

when it's all too neat, we can't make a mess.  
maybe the...

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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....

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his distant still palette
of ambient light
painted the silence
of hawks in the night

catching a sadness
that hides in plain sight
in an air of detachment
that hints at their plight.


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Inspired by the painting Automat by Edward Hopper in 1927.
The painting shows a lone woman sat at automated restaurant table.

Viewing the painting will make sense of the poem. I should also add that I was inspired to write this poem by viewing Gary Radice's poem...

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~ darkness gleaming   wisdom gleaning   state of the heart poetry ~







1.2.2020

Who Flips Your Trolley Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Bobby May...

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it is 
    what it is
without narrative
isolated
    moments
       of figuration
sunlight 
        on a wall
frozen 
        in time

conversations
  ...

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sallow confined to the shadow
though his glance reaches across the void
solvent so far in my averted gaze
this man will not stop the sun falling on my face
my air is purified, greyness swerves me
salt cellars absorb his intention 
whilst I calculate my route to the door...

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sipping cold coffee
staring into emptiness
counting tiny grounds

Copyright © 2009 By Caryl S. Muzzey...

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An Edward Hopper moment
finds her sitting there,
half in sunlight,
her legs, the best part
of an ordinary anatomy,
waving seductively,
like some submarine
predatory plant,
while the rest of her,
disguised by the late
afternoon shadows,
appears to read,
but shares the same hopes
as the legs....

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It seems I really loved to hop around,
 to have my feet come off, then back on ground. 
I got a pogo stick I used all year
 and wore out quickly once I learned to steer!

 At 15, I was not the same small kid,...

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bathed in still shadows
from an afternoon glow
and wrapped inside splendour 
now faded and gone
this house from a world
remote silent and slow
stands trapped by the past
in a world moving on....

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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...

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where is the back road
that passes this place

- a gas station refuge
between nature and night

and who is the man
with the half hidden face

working / existing
in ethereal light?...

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I once had a rabbit named Hopper. 
My father had bought him for me on my birthday. 
He was small and all white except for little black spots
on his back. He was a happy little thing, always moving around,
Never once staying in the same place....

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Hedda Hopper 
wore many a fancy topper.
Louella Parsons hated her guts,
no ifs, ands, or buts.

I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for
information I obtained to write this clerihew.

June 27, 2013

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