It's midnight at the Laundromat;
The crowd has all long gone.
The machines have grown quiet now;
The shadows wait for dawn.
The stories echo from the walls,
The people they have seen,
With laughing eyes and troubled frowns
And all things in between.
The underwear found in a corner,
The blanket left on a dryer,
The baby's doll under a table,
The church bazaar's pink flyer ---
These are stories waiting to be told
In a place none would suspect
That is really quite filled up with dreams,
Though most realists would reject.
But a poet's soul can see the tales
That to most just fade away.
And a poet's dream will find hope here
When midnight turns to day.
Author notes
What is more mundane than a laundromat? Grins.
A contest entry
- There is poetry in a dirty pair of socks... by CrystalLizard.
875 points, ended April 16, 20 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
I really liked this poem, a subject you hardly ever read about.
Love D.L. -
This is interesting- very atmospheric and interesting choice for the setting of a poem.
Cool take on the prompt, too.
These are stories waiting to be told
In a place none would suspect
That is really quite filled up with dreams,
Though most realists would reject.
is my favourite bit- I like literature which deals with the act of writing literature. In this you have shown what your inspiration was for this poem in an overt way, which I find to be a unique device.
N ice write.
Id
X
-
This kind of place
could keep one writing forever...mac
-
Should the last line of the second stanza be "object" instead of "reject"? (Just wondering...) Nice meter and rhyme; the piece has a wonderful flow to it. I love the idea of the Laundromat Lost & Found. What stories, indeed! Thank you for your entry, and good luck!
Adding your comment:
