~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At first, it was the weight
that threw me~
how a pocketful of coins
could sag like regret,
how a dime could vanish
between couch cushions
and take a week’s patience with it.
The cashier laughed,
not unkindly,
as I fumbled quarters
like a magician with stage fright,
my fingers betraying me
with their too-quick math.
But then—
the click of nickels finding their orbit,
the way a dollar breaks
into four perfect silences,
each one a chance
to begin again.
Now I make change
like a thief counting seconds,
smooth and swift,
because loss is just arithmetic
in reverse,
and every missing penny
is a lesson in letting go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I find them~
in the cracks of asphalt
in streets and parking lots.
They are copper pilgrims,
their heads bowed down,
waiting for my hand.
Some are slick with rain,
others dull as old bones,
but each one carries
the weight of a wish
someone forgot to make.
I gather them like
tiny suns, warm
from the sidewalk’s breath,
until my pockets sag
with the gravity
of abandoned luck.
I pry one from the teeth of a gutter~
Lincoln’s face half-eaten
by time.
Still,
I take it home,
lay it on the windowsill
where the light
could baptize it anew.
What is a coin
but a story paused mid-sentence?
I am the archaeologist
of small fortunes,
excavating where
no one else looks.
Someday, I will leave them
in places where hands
might need them more~
tucked under bus seats,
balanced on ledges,
for the next believer
to pocket a tiny prayer.
WHO SHE IS
AND WHO SHE WANTS TO BE
VASTLY DIFFERENT
AS LAND AND SEA
SHRIVELED HOPES
WRINKLED DREAMS
CRUSHED WITH THE WEIGHT
OF THINGS UNSEEN
THE PAIN, THE GRUDGE
THE BLOODY SCARS
HIDES BEHIND
THE MASK THUS FAR
NOBODY SEES
DO THEY EVEN CARE
WHO SHE WAS
WHO SHE LOVED
GONE WITH THE WAVES
OF YESTERDAYS SORROW
BEGGING,CRYING, TRYING
TO MAKE A RETURN
SOME SWEET MORROW
UNTIL THEN
SHE SITS IN SILENCE
SHE COPES, SHE DWELLS
JUST AS THE OLD PENNIES
IN THE BOTTOM OF THE WELL
I saved mine
along with nickels
and dimes
Unwanted, now discarded
~ change over time
I rose up hard through the ranks,
Shining shineless shoes aglow.
Some just paid me with their thanks,
Some just a penny a toe!
On my long way to the top,
I shined tears from eye to eye.
Because sometimes shoes would stop,
Alas, most shoes just went by!
I sweat, I scrimped, and I slaved,
Put every penny away.
I knew every penny saved,
Would shine gold for me some day!
Had spit-polish dues to meet,
Singing the St. Louis Blues.
Saw more than a million feet,
And more than ten miles of shoes!
But every shoe that would stop,
Just one more penny to peck.
Till packs of pennies would drop,
And put gold around my neck!
All those precious pennies earned,
I fondly think on once more...
The golden rule's what I learned,
Now I own my own shoe store!
Lay me down in open skies
Put the pennies on my eyes
Wrapped in my suit and tie of gray
Say a couple words of grace
Toss the earth upon my face
And let's call it another day
Endless time is all I've got
As I decompose and rot
It's a horrid situation
As I leave you all behind
The one thing that comes to mind
Should have asked them for cremation
"Pennies are good luck. Take one with you everywhere you go." By Poet
Once in a tale of old,
a penny was worth one cent not gold.
A nickel was worth five pennies,
they say changes are coming Jenny.
With no more pennies of copper,
this will be a real money stopper.
Guess I need to now unearth,
the real story behind the nickel's worth.
Will the king of coins the nickel require a new birth?
hello brother,
irish hearing of translations
in american creole we leave, ears are not left nor right
they perk and grass talls to a tickling memory for running up to the hairs of trigger
trigger is limber and frequiently as december
bestow herselfish visits when attendants of time
dare not his fender
his fender glides in names as thumper
neither care to scamper yet both shall parent springs
sordid surroundings
make for Dickensian tales
~ poverty triumphs
Three Pennies from Heaven dropped as I opened my bedroom door,
From a loved one who tossed them to the hardwood floor.
They came to tell me how I’m truly missed,
And that Heaven definitely does exist.
They dropped at midnight- taking bathroom break,
Later two glued together- there was no mistake.
If only I could tell them I miss them but I think they know,
I’ll hold those pennies tight and never let them go.
So if you find a penny in your trodden track,
Store it safely away and never give it back.
Hold it close to your heart and memories will flow,
When they once were living not very long ago.
Copyright © 2024 By Caryl S. Muzzey
pennies
dance
in the dryer
There’s a five pence piece in my pocket, it means nothing to me.
It’s an object that shouldn't be there, but with someone else or somewhere.
In my pocket! Forgotten.
Like the growing old colourless material on me.
The five pence piece makes me feel smaller than normal, giving no impression that I'm doing well.
As leaning over the toilet seat, as bent slate or like the nickel-plated being.
It’s getting closer to my piss and stained trousers with sick.
The argument resulted in a shortage of thinking.
I am alone with another woman (Elizabeth) but for the moment she is warmer and kinder.
I needed to lay down for a long time.
There’s a five pence piece in my pocket, it means nothing to me.
It’s an object that shouldn't be there, but with someone else or somewhere.
In my pocket! Forgotten.
Like the growing old colourless material on me.
The five pence piece makes me feel smaller than normal, giving no impression that I'm doing well.
As leaning over the toilet seat, as bent slate or like the nickel-plated being.
It’s getting closer to my piss and stained trousers with sick.
The argument resulted in a shortage of thinking.
I am alone with another woman (Elizabeth) but for the moment she is warmer and kinder.
I needed to lay down for a long time.
pennies, nickels, dimes
small, but big enough for dreams
coins that roll in chimes
Ban and J.R. sat in the kitchen restless in their chairs,
rambling on with pleasure, they were such a pair.
Outside a very pulling seductive summer day,
but they were focused with what is in front of them.
They have finished counting all the old
copper wheat pennies in the canning jar,
which was full to the brim. It was theirs.
Their eyes wooed still, with anticipation;
how many there are, as they shared.
So many they thought, with open jaws.
Once more their hand reached into the jar.
With excitement, fingers curl around the copper coins,
withdrew out a few stamped, with stars
with hopes of spending the coins.
3/4/2023
Writing Challenge - ''J'' Words - Poetry Contest 2. Jar
Sponsored by: Constance La France
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