The Potato Eaters
Occasionally illuminated by flickering candles,
scenes we find shocking before darkness returns.
In sparse single rooms with old wooden tables
where families crowd around solitary plates.
Whittled down faces with shaded cheeks,
black-hole eyes betraying the despair of a
love born out of exhausting solidarity.
And postures always resigned to tomorrow.
Perhaps, above the table, a symbol of faith.
In the vacuum of aspiration, inspiration and hope.
A spirit as flickering as a candle, in the gloaming
of the resilient, boundless kingdom of poverty.
Ronnie Smith was born and grew up in the west of Scotland where he eventually discovered that people didn't laugh at his efforts at writing short stories. He contributed fiction and commentary to a number of magazines and got involved in editing. In his day job Ronnie worked in international education administration, allowing him to travel widely at various companies' expense, and lived in Romania for eight years before moving to south west France. In truth, Ronnie has become somewhat rootless but he considers this to be a good thing as it relieves him of the usual tribal duties associated with modern nationalism. These days, Ronnie teaches History at a French High School, contributes to the weekly Scottish Review and writes whatever comes into his head at any given time. There will be a novel at some point...
The Ekphrastic Review
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