He looks as though he needs them,
but the old man doesn't pick the pennies
up from the sidewalk; he turns them
so that Abraham Lincoln faces the sky.
He pitches his own copper into the air
the way his friends throw birdseed;
he likes to be someone else's luck.
And now on every fallen cent
I see the face of the threadbare penny man.
A man once told me he collected every penny he found face up because everytime he passed one he felt it was Gods' way of testing him to see if he really did Trust in God, and every time he read "In God We Trust" on them he would smile and say he was lucky that God remembered to test him that day.
An intriguing poem, it arouses curiosity about the penny man.
Even though I have not seen him, I am even now imagining his face and his threadbare clothes. Good work!
I loved this write...it reminded me of a story that I once read about an old man who would leave pennies in an obvious place for an innocent bystander to find them...he would sit unoticed and watch the person who finds the penny, eager to see if the person picks the penny up or walks away. Enjoyed the write much a great story told in a few lines.
Blessings,
Joyce Bowling
This Penny Man brings back soul/sole memories for me. I loved Penny Loafers as a child and I use to polish my pennies with quicksilver, (mercury), chased it around 'cause mercury is so slippery, it gets away from ya, and then put the polished, shiniest pennies, matching years, in the slots of my loafers. This threadbare man is a giver of honesty like honest Abe. Also, this poem reminds me of my poem in my den titled Lavender Outlaw: Wanted Dead or Alive. You have to be famous to have made it on a coin! Bubblegum machine and penny candy sweet, Shea...
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A man once told me he collected every penny he found face up because everytime he passed one he felt it was Gods' way of testing him to see if he really did Trust in God, and every time he read "In God We Trust" on them he would smile and say he was lucky that God remembered to test him that day.
Even though I have not seen him, I am even now imagining his face and his threadbare clothes. Good work!
Connie
Blessings,
Joyce Bowling
Sage