In Summerhouse

a poem based off of the painting, In Summer House (look it up!) , that I did for my creative writing class.

The silver utensils clink in the summer air,

We breathe in the smell of flaura and fauna,

As we eat dessert,

little pastel-colored cakes.

That fine-bred boy is staring at my sister's

Little round mouth, painted red,

By her lady's maid.

The bees are buzzing,

As are the murmurs of the adults,

From the other table.

 

My elder sister, they commend,

The debutante.

Her pale, yellow tulle dress,

With lace at the neck,

Little buttons on the cuffs,

They're covered in white silk,

Her perfectly small waist shows off in the dusk.

She's sunshine and the image of society.

 

At me, the younger, the adults scoff,

While the wine is pouring.

I scuff my heels in the dirt under the table,

And fidget with my white gloved fingers.

My pale pink dress with empire waist,

And lace at the bust, is innocent like child's candy, looked on by

None of our suitors.

 

My sister is a robot, he stares at her

like a delightful morsel,

His formal black tails flipping in the slight wind.

He wants to tear the straw hat from her head,

Which protects her smooth,

unworked skin from freckles,

And twirl his fingers

in her golden curls.

He observes me like I'm some yet undiscovered animal,

With revolting manners and an untamed appearance.

He averts his eyes, and replaces them

on my elder sister.

I sigh in the summer air, from boredom.

My parents sigh with disapproval

and impatience.

I sigh, and sip the cognac

from my little, silver glass.

Reviews

[An owl on the moon]

What beautiful warm glimpses that lead into the darker glances and deeper glasses... How the feelings of that moments play in such summering slow rhythms...

[Lorraine]

Great tone. I feel like I'm seeing a picturesque scene in the eyes of a spoiled little girl. Nice descriptions.

Keep Writing. ^___^

[Coyote Poetry]

I like this story. The movement was perfect. You told a gentle story of a family and small events in mist of a summer day. I like the description and the ending. Nothing as good as a sip of cognac in the mist of boredom. A excellent poem.
Coyote

[Orlando Murcia]

Nice

Great description and creativity

I wish I had some cognac right now ;)

Amazing write