The cafe cold,
The coffee old,
The dusty stock
On shelves not sold.
The rusty sign,
The empty line,
The day turned bad
That had been fine.
The milk turned sour
The minute, an hour
The weevils in
The bread and flour.
The sour cream,
The sleep filled scream
The broken remnants
Of the dream.
The cafe cold,
The coffee old,
The dusty stock
On shelves not sold.
Image
Copyright © 2017 Grant Fenton – All Rights Reserved
Inalienable Write 
Loved the pace of the poem!
LikeLike
Thank you.
It started off as
The cafe cold,the coffee old,
The dusty stock on shelves not sold.
but was at risk of not flowing so I broke the lines in two and it seems to work.
How’s your poem written from inside a poem coming along?
G
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve written “The Cellar Door” using Frost’s form but it’s not scheduled until Oct 16.
LikeLike
ooooh. Very exciting. I’m looking forward to seeing it.
Do you write them, sit on them and then publish? I have my hand hovering over PUBLISH while I’m typing sometimes. I can’t stand having a piece siting in limbo. It’s like I’ve somehow not finished it if I don’t press publish. You must be a patient person.
G
LikeLiked by 1 person
I am an incredibly impatient person lol. But I only publish poetry twice a week on WP so I already had poems lined up. I have another 30 poems in drafts that I’m working on.
LikeLike