![marcy jarvis [dirty[pretty] cup]](http://cafexperiment.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/03/20070314092819_schlossberg5.jpg)
This pict is in a poetry competition so there are many poems being generated by poets from around the world wide web that were inspired by this picture, on this page http://allpoetry.com/contest/2341936
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Add Yours →The constellation on the floor's
shaped like a cup cause I adore
Italian coffee just as much
as all the stars over whom I've pored.
“the foam on my tongue”
I can't stand-
how the black liquid leaves
its trace
on my teeth,
taking the place of your
clearish-white–
which I haven't tasted since last year.
I particularly like 'the foam on my tongue,' which I find quite sadly despondent. It makes me feel that the beautiful past has been stained by the person's absence and left a black memory. Many thoughts in a succinct form.
La Notte Stellata
Crater constellation
to choose my cup,
ponder, wonder
with coffee there;
starry, Italian sky lights up,
a bunch of nerves
and raw nausea from throwing up.
i think you've run out.
lost.
because when you wake up
and it's the raw, scratchy feeling in the back of your throat
the coffee stained in each unforgiven artery
you'll hit the floor,
& the stars will come colliding with your eyes.