Gilt-edged first light visions greet
zestful horde in trendy street
Luscious coffee bouncing bean
set alight a dormant scene
Pumpkin seeds dot fresh brown toast
eager staff cool vibrant host
Ghetto blasters rock and blare
raucous voices split the air
Backbeat sold on grey stone curb
manic newsstand with the blurb
Toil worn riser half asleep
speed bump traffic jam’s beep beep
Noisy dockland, wharf or pier
naval fringe cry, coast is clear
Blue horizon sky high quest
humdrum route dull second best
Stock exchange a whirling disc
budding Gordon Gecko risk
Rapid urban belt whose rift
spurs its city’s latent gift
Yesterday I stopped by the corner newsstand.
“I know full well you can’t afford the Sunday paper, but
why are you in the street?” A voice in my head asked.
I should be in the subway for my morning satire of the
bureaucratic city. Destination frantic.
I like the street lamps in my neighborhood that keep on
until noon. That’s privilege trying to call your attention.
Everything I need is near my finger tip, across the window,
window shopping, a sign of my freedom.
I believe I will die believing one day I can
afford shopping there. It’s amazing how the hope never dies!
There’s real drama hidden in hope and expectation.
I work minimum wage at Amazon, less wretched than
the Amazon natives fleeing deforestation, still thrashing
like a chopped tree. The dead trees speak louder than me.
Old poets look at how I look at you. I think of you relentlessly.
You’re the birds high overhead and I’m the last lunatic in your
velvet city filled with official holidays. Freedom means a holiday
from your inner infernal city, beheading all your statues, making
personal peace.
Tall and handsome was super Armand
Younger days spent in a music boyband
Older he graduated to a heavy rock band
With the stage name of “Collapsin’ Grandstand”
Last summer Armand took a cruise trip to Greenland
Because that was his deep rooted fatherland
Then a hop a skip and a jump over to Iceland
Tagging on a visit to his sweet motherland
He thought this’d be much better than Disneyland
For here his music was in most popular demand
Confirmed in all papers at any newsstand
Heard it many a time and it was easy to understand
Fans cheered and danced at the band’s command
Everyone in attendance had a time that’s grand
Always had a bigger crowd than planned
All felt like they had reached the Holy Land
Never accused of being underhand or bland
Every night in the middle of Armand’s handstand
The crowd wildly cheered for “Collapsin’ Grandstand”
Too hilarious to see how would jump to attention every stagehand
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Posted on February 28, 2018
I asked my husband what was wrong
He didn’t answer
He just wiped his eyes and drove away
He left his wedding ring on the table
I strode out into the misty morning
the sun fighting the sky for the stage
as a steady drizzle began
I felt no rain
I went to the coffee shop and waited in line
as I stared at the mirrors that refused to show my face
The server took the order of the person behind me
I stormed out in a huff, my hands never touching the door
I wandered in the wispy morning light
A chill climbed up my spine
Those that walked passed me huddled closer
As if they too could feel my chill
I walked past my daughter's school
And waved back to her on the playground
Her friends weren’t playing with her
She must be very lonely
I found myself at the church
The shining white beacon in the sky
Beyond in the graveyard, I saw two new graves
I wondered who had died
A little way away I saw my childhood home
And for a moment I thought I saw
My dearly departed parents
Rocking in their old rickety chairs
I glide past the newsstand
I see a headline
“Mother and daughter dead in highway 85 crash”
And my heart hurts for the family
There! a newsstand!
Inside, where that man stands.
Nobody stops for magazines
he's owing for your glance.
He loves the print on paper,
and a craving for it's smell.
A broken soul dealt hands
of cards misfortuned you can tell.
Well,
years passed.
His stand? the same.
That old lady stopped to browse,
but at home she left her change.
Seemingly sad,
So she buttoned up her coat
And whistled toward the street
for that ride to fly her home.
“Just a minute ma'am.”
He smiled, showing teeth.
“My morning traveled customer
take that tabloid there, it's free.
I’ve had this stand for years
and they never saw the sign”
-Corner Newsstand: My gift! You don’t have to pay a dime-
To teach some virtue on broadband
To spread God's word from a bandstand
To require more clothes during a suntan
To eliminate lewd dances in lap-land
To take lust fanned and begin a ban
To fight child prostitution in Thailand
To remove molesters' favorite gland
To vanquish tears throughout the land
To banish lewd stories from the newsstand
To compel greedy people to disband
To stop cattle rustling in the rangeland
To remove abused plants from pusher's cropland
To not stick my head deep in the sand
To teach righteous living in my homeland
To stop mankind from sinking in sin's quick sand
Contemporary values are not God's plan.
© January 27, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
POETIC FORM: List with Monorhyme
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Contemporary
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
Newsstand vendor
Side walk cleaner
Early morning commuter
Tired truck driver
Careful bus driver
Carpooling white-collar workers
Each day I witness this entourage of sorts,
the movement of the masses,
the migration of the worker.
We are all part of the same
system that guides us,
yet at times rejects us.
However, we do it again each day.
A day in the life.
But, what do we live for?