Grand Hotel 1932

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 – July 9
“Today, we’re writing about grandparents. We’re focusing on becoming one, being one or one of your grandparents.

Alternatively, write a “grand” poem. A grand = $1000, it’s a kind of piano, it’s a stand-up person, a mensch. Grand Canyon, the Grand Hotel, Grand Theft Auto… think outside of the cube-like cardboard container!”

Despite lush, plush furnishings
and manner, the Grand Hotel
had secrets that befell
individual guests, ranging
from melancholic, to fearful
to dead. Barons were gamblers,
ballerinas–aging prima donnas.
Accountants dying, money flying,
cheaters, fleecers, Kings

of Industry sans scruples,
with stenographers as their willing
pupils. Ah, the grandness
of a hotel–waiters scurrying,
hurrying to meet needs and whims
of guests. Tuxedos, gowns,
chandeliered ballrooms,
and exotic dinners for under-
handed sinners. Do not be fooled

by fancy trimmings. Pass by
the Grand Hotel with a fond
wave, and continue on to a less
luxurious place.  All is never
what it seems.

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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