NaPoWriMo – Day 2 : The glass building near my house

NaPoWriM- Day 2 – “Our poetry resource for today is this PDF of a short, rather whimsical chapbook by the Pulitzer Prize-winnning poet James Schuyler, whose poems are known for constantly mixing together spoken language, observations about the weather, high and low diction, and for their attention to the profundities (and absurdities) of everyday life.

Our (optional) prompt for the day takes a leaf from Schuyler’s book, as it were, and asks you to write a poem about a specific place —  a particular house or store or school or office. Try to incorporate concrete details, like street names, distances (“three and a half blocks from the post office”), the types of trees or flowers, the color of the shirts on the people you remember there. Little details like this can really help the reader imagine not only the place, but its mood – and can take your poem to weird and wild places.


Two blocks from where I stay

Is a glassy glass building with a high ceiling

A Baccarat crystal chandelier hangs from above

Sparkling the Carrara marble below

From the out, you can see the twenty stair escalator –

The plush leather lounge, and the shiny mosaic floor

They usher you in there, with a flourish

And lead you to your seats

 

For sure , it’s classy

Prim and pricey

The children love it there

They can’t help but stare

At the muscled men in black, who  serve

And the women in short pink dresses, with the curves

The lights are dim there

and the walls , a dull green

 

It’s a charming little world there, up until six,

When the children are no longer allowed there

And ushered out of the gate

It comes alive again not until eight

When the chandelier casts a hundred spells

And laughter sounds like tinkling bells

Gucci cuff-links, Dior sequins –  the latest styles

Jimmy Choo heels tap on mosaic tiles

 

Colonial hugs, air kisses

Furtive glances, clinking of glasses

In a trance they strut in- eager stags and glossy lasses

Plumes of smoke and music fill the air

That’s how it is then until midnight there

Tottering feet, eyes ablaze

Swaying; nuzzling in a daze

Under the Baccarat crystal chandelier

 

Until they dissipate into the dark

Leaving the glassy glass building

Onto the quiet pavement-

Where the dogs lie curled up

Asleep

and the midnight breeze

moves without a sound

and the night watches on

glass1
P.C from the net used for illustrative purpose

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