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Norwich School Blog

Members of creative writing club Writers' Bloc respond to a painting by Edward Hopper

Members of creative writing club Writers' Bloc have been responding to a painting by Edward Hopper, Sunlight in a Cafeteria. 

Here are pieces by four members of the club:

Sunlight in a cafeteria poem

He sits in wait till she calls him near

His eyes show age, a patient shadow

The sun comes through to burn the fear

 

Her face is stubborn with not a tear

Though inside her heart does flow

He sits in wait till she calls him near

 

The room was still, her mind was clear

She sat with pride let it show

The sun comes through to burn the fear

 

He absorbed her lasts, last day, last year

And calmly off away they’d flow

He sits in wait till she calls him near

 

He begins to stand and she sees him appear

Just watching and hiding her great woe

The sun comes through to burn the fear

 

She saw his cloak, his scythe, his gear

He took her hand and held her dear

He sits in wait till she calls him near

The sun comes through to burn the fear.

Daisy Pickering

 

The Sunlit Cafe

The gentle wind ruffled their hair as they sat opposite solid oak tables while the golden light spilled in from the open window. Music floated across to them from a street opposite them, calming the nerves that jangled in their souls. An appreciated mug of coffee sat in front of the individuals releasing the aroma across the polished cafeteria.

The muted honks of impatient cars sang in the distance like a pack of harmonised geese as doves danced with the clouds in a lazy waltz. The oak tables gleamed with pleasure as if they were welcoming the strangers to stay longer. A starched frown was drawn upon the man’s tanned face as he sat looking morosely out the open windows.

He stared deeply at the houses as if they held the secrets of the universe inside it while the woman next to his table fiddled nervously with her slim fingers. Her periwinkle-blue dress shimmered like the sea while her golden hair shone like the morning star. The dirt encrusted houses were a dark comparison to the peaceful café.

Grace Yeo

 

The Mysterious Man

Neither of them had said anything yet. The lady was staring at the table. The man seemed to be staring into space. They were sitting at different tables. The man wore a black suit; the lady wore a blue dress.

Finally, the man spoke.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?”

She studied him carefully. She recognized him from somewhere.

The café was where she went to think. The sun would always beam down on her and it was so quiet and peaceful. She had been very surprised when the man had come out and sat on the table next to hers.

After a while, she replied.

“Yes, it is.”

After a few more minutes, the man stood up.

“Goodbye then.”

He tucked his chair in and left.

Kyriel Fynn

 

Sunlight in a Cafeteria

In this bright place

A man and wife

Sitting apart

Away from strife

She holds a mug

And gazes down

While her husband

Begins to frown

‘My dear,’ he says,

‘What have I done?

From these troubles

You cannot run!’

She stirs the spoon

He scrapes the plate

“You tell me then

Let’s get this straight!

You tried to rob

You tried to steal!

The moon and sun

For your own zeal.

You’re a mean man

And nothing more

My love for you

Is but a chore.

You stole my heart

The sun and moon

To your love I

Am now immune!’

‘You selfish brat

Can you not see?

I didn’t steal them

All for me!

They were for you

Heart, moon and sun

Because you are

My only one!

You are my moon

My sun and heart

And I can’t bear to be apart!’

Then there was quiet

All round the room

For yes he’d stole

The sun and moon

Her hair was gold

Alike the sun

Curled her and there

And softly spun.

Her eyes were grey

Alike the moon

And shone so bright

In this here June.

 

Her heart beat slow

Her eyes tested up

Her hair went flat

She gripped her cup.

‘I stole the sun

And moon for you

I love you so

To you I’m true!’

Then with a scrape

The tables met

Dragged across floor

Polished and wet.

And as they met

The sun had sunk

Escaping from

The husbands trunk.

The moon arose

He’d escaped too!

And in the sky

Came a grey hue.

Their hearts fluttered

In synch once more

Their love was

No longer a chore!

For he loved her

And she loves him

And in the moon

Light they now swim.

Colette Maxwell-Preston

 

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