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Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained | |||
"Afternoon of a Pawnbroker" is a poem by Kenneth Fearing, an American poet and novelist who was active in the mid-20th century. The poem is a vivid and dark portrayal of a pawnbroker and his surroundings. Explanation: The poem begins with a description of the pawnbroker, who is bald and sitting in the dust of his shop. He eats bread from a tin cup while a fly buzzes around him. The scene is quiet and still, suggesting a sense of lethargy and stagnation. Customers come to the shop with their possessions, which they leave with the pawnbroker in exchange for money. The pawnbroker is described as moving slowly, like a pawn, suggesting that he is trapped in his role and powerless to change his circumstances. As the day wears on, the sun fades away and the pawnbroker falls asleep. The final stanza describes the pawnbroker's heart as a stone, suggesting a sense of emotional numbness and resignation. The overall effect of the poem is to create a powerful sense of the oppressive and bleak atmosphere of the pawn shop, with the pawnbroker portrayed as a tragic figure trapped in a cycle of poverty and powerlessness. Poetic Elements:
Conclusion: "Afternoon of a Pawnbroker" is a powerful and evocative poem that portrays the drab and oppressive atmosphere of a pawn shop. Fearing's use of vivid imagery and metaphor creates a sense of resignation and powerlessness, with the pawnbroker portrayed as a tragic figure trapped in his circumstances. Poem Snippet: "The pawnbroker sits In the dust of his shop, Bald as a gleaming egg, And carefully eats Bread from a tin cup." Copyright (c) 2025 PoetryExplorer | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HARD BARGAIN by DAVID BOTTOMS FUGITIVE LINES ON PAWNING MY WATCH by THOMAS HOOD PAWNBROKERS by MARGUERITE WILKINSON UPON A ROW OLD BOOTS AND SHOES IN A PAWNBROKER'S WINDOW by FRANK WILMOT JACK KNUCKLES FALTER by KENNETH FEARING MORNING, NOON AND NIGHT by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON DOMESDAY BOOK: GREGORY WENNER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SIXTY-EIGHTH BIRTHDAY by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL MERCURY; ON LOSING MY POCKET MILTON AT LUSS NEAR BEN LOMOND by ROBERT ANDREWS |
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