This penny wedged between the window sill and pane Has been painted over twice. I can tell because the paint's chipped and I see Two layers: pink then minty green. No one has opened the window Since this room was converted From a swanky powder room in the 20s And a lounging room with fainting divan In the 40s. Now it is a closet Where I hang myself.
I stood at the fountain near holy steps in Rome, Balanced my shiniest penny on my cocked thumb, This one should be good, I should really be sure before the flip. The pigeons flapped and chortled Impatient with this new statue. Love. No. Money. No. Time. Yes that's it. Time. Satisfied, I poinged my coin, high as I could. It flipped like a copper acrobat And slowly descended followed by My watchful eye. And landed in a scoundrel's hand Who pocketed it, winked at me... And walked away.
Here's the homepage for poetry please. Go there, join the group, and follow the instructions given on February 22 for this week's prompt. It's important to identify your submission in either the title or the tag. I speak as an experienced group owner of Mindful Poetry. :-)
It was a surprising ending. I enjoyed the read. You have the talent to make me feel as though I'm in the room. Thank you for posting to our group, well done.
Very effective. One imagines the mind of the protagonist focusing on irrelevant detail as a metaphor for the futility of life as they see it: it all comes to this - a penny trapped between hard, impenetrable glass and dead wood. The world goes on. Congratulations.
The images of fainting couches and powder rooms are lamblasted by the humble closet's purpose now. Great use of color pink / green, and then the grey/black shadows we all associate with the corners in a closet. Good on you for the jolt you gave us. Wilka
I love the layers of paint that suggest eras of the room like eras of one's life. I have read through all the comments, and I agree, that the final iteration of the room, falls and brings the lines to a jarring end. It is effectively disturbing. I confess, I wanted...in my own defense mechanism of denial...tried the awkward stretch of interpretation that the closet was a place to hang, as in hang out, like one would hang in a powder room or a lounging parlour. I know, I know, a lame, self-protective take on it. I was forced at length to admit that darkness that can afflict people is just that thick, and just that powerful to produce a paralyzing despair. Depression is way too real. That old penny, was diverted from its original purpose, wedged in a tight spot, twice coated in paint, and endured the hard knocks that chipped away at it. I don't know...it is an intriguing piece, stirrs a lot of thought. Very effective.
Thank you for so many rich, thoughtful comments. It was definitely one of those poems where I didn't know the ending until I had written it. If you read the comments in the Poetry Please post that first gives us the prompt of the word penny, you'll see that that is where I first wrote this poem.
That's the delight of Poetry Please prompts. Something unexpected can fall from a writer's fingers.
The shocking ending struck me as morbidly funny in the best sort of way. This is a clever example of ´gallows humor´, and what makes the poem work with the O´Henry twist precisely are the mundane details we are focused on by the speaker instead of why in God´s name she is taking her life.
Just brilliant, Susan, and I love the shocking close....but also can allow a gentler reflection of "clothing as self-identity" possibility. Just could not have enjoyed this poem more! Patricia's comments equally as inspiring...kudos to you both!
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Comments: 27
I stood at the fountain near holy steps in Rome,
Balanced my shiniest penny on my cocked thumb,
This one should be good,
I should really be sure before the flip.
The pigeons flapped and chortled
Impatient with this new statue.
Love. No. Money. No.
Time. Yes that's it.
Time.
Satisfied, I poinged my coin, high as I could.
It flipped like a copper acrobat
And slowly descended followed by
My watchful eye.
And landed in a scoundrel's hand
Who pocketed it, winked at me...
And walked away.
Congratulations.
Good on you for the jolt you gave us.
Wilka
Really great shot at end in reply touching !!!
That's the delight of Poetry Please prompts. Something unexpected can fall from a writer's fingers.
Patricia's comments equally as inspiring...kudos to you both!