he entered the room as if rice was about to boil over,
seeing faces of those he didn't recognise look as though
they were reading the last line of a book they never read
before, staggered, asymmetrically pensive in times during
coffee servings and bites from donuts, but, given that it
was only midday, the flavour of the waitresses grumbled
in overlapping office lunch hours. little did our hero, who
entered with arched cat-back whiteness, know, his un-
expected audience, delivering blank verse in motor-
cycle and side-car loads, were systematically only there
to make up the numbers, merely propping up the inward
burst of off the street heart attacks, the last hope of ever
thwarted reasoning and too the waitresses were cardboard.
This poem is amazing in statement, rhetoric and metaphors, with a strong language and a solid poetic structure. It resembles a rare movie clip, or animated draw of a brilliant painter, and so you make from everyday things precious, invaluable pieces with deep philosophy meanings. 10/10 and onto my fav list, well done
Thanks for your constructive and kind words, what great feedback, thanks for taking time out of your day to write this amazing comment, .,
this is one of my poems that is also on Write Out Loud here's a comment from that poetry website " Enthralling, stylish and quite spellbinding. Great writing, loved it."
Explicit imagery, a person about to boil like rice.... beautiful metaphoric Then waitress grumbled... Cat-back whiteness of fear I think. Street heart attack..last hope of ever .. wonderful write.
thanks for commenting on my poem Death In A Lunch Hour yes last hope ever, and sometimes it is perhaps just meant to be when the waitresses are just cardboard.., , , ,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
burst of off the street heart attacks, the last hope of ever thwarted reasoning and too the waitresses were cardboard
Death In A Lunch Hour thanks for your comment.,