In response to this weeks photo challenge – Depth
Birdsong is silenced
In the bleak depths of forest
Where only thorns grow
poetry
Not fun, not fair
He looked like a gypsy.
Brown curls and dark eyes,
small sparkling white teeth.
How could I resist him,
those heartbeats and goosebumps
girly giggles betrayed?
Swept up by the funfair,
bright lights,and promises of
dizzying, dazzling, delights,
eagerly I entered.
It turned out dark and cold.
No nurturing light there.
Only a not-so-merry go-round
Undulating, building speed,
Sickly, spiteful, stopped.
Strangers
And when the sun came
I saw his eyes
narrow and sharp against
that dazzling light
His lips so rich and firm before
were closed and locked
against my soft caress
Through hotel-grey sheets,
where hours before
no-one could touch us,
street noises bled
Sated, he stretched and prowled away
to find another
fragile heart to shatter
Insanity
If ever I go completely insane
I’ll wring my hands and call your name
I’ll hide behind a wall of pain
and flit and flick and shout and scream
and flash dark eyes
toward the corner
where you hide.
If ever I go completely insane
You’ll not be able to say my name
without excruciating pain.
You’ll squirm and turn and howl and scream
And turn wet eyes
Toward the corner
While I laugh.
When death do us part
If I go first
don’t weep and reel
or let sorrow fill you.
Keep your tears.
But,
place my picture on the mantel,
remember summers in the sun,
and smile.
Though I won’t see it
it’s comforting to me now
to know you’ll remember me
with joy.
If you go first
I will not cry.
I’ll be dry and dusty.
Empty,
like a forgotten room
in winter.
I’ll keep your photograph
on the pillow
where your sleeping head should be,
and dream of when
we were young and smooth
and love was all we knew.
Weathering the Storm
There’s a deep black cloud approaching.
I see it in the distance
and hear its discontented grumbles
fracturing this golden day.
Its rages may hurt us,
It’s wild winds rip at our hearts,
but yet, we’ll cling to the debris
and watch for the rainbow.
Winter of Love
I am brittle and abandoned.
Like gilt leaves shed by the selfish tree.
Discarded.
As you wilfully discarded me.
I am damp and distraught.
Like wind whipping drizzle against cheeks.
Cold
As you were callous and cold to me
I am sombre and grey.
Like the sky’s heavy, battleship clouds.
Threatening
As you so grimly threatened me.
I am winter white.
Like first frost, static and beautiful.
Deadly.
As you were to me.
Maturity
The apples ripen red, delicious
on the tree
then fall
where animals feast
and insects crawl
and creep
under their skin
rotting them from the outside in.
October Afternoon
Moody clouds gather
as ripe fruit drops from shivering branches
onto pillows of gold.
The last of the lustrous flowers,
weary from the summer show,
slouch beside the wasted seed pods of their sisters,
whilst workers head back to hives unsated.
Yet still there’s a butterfly.
An Ode to Models – from a more rounded lady!
Come on you thin things,
eat some pies,
get some blubber on those thighs.
Eat some chocolate.
Gain some pounds.
Make those boobies nice and round.
Get a spare tyre,
don’t be flat,
Boys don’t like their girls like that.
Make things wobble,
learn to twerk,
you can make that booty work.
Get some roses in those cheeks,
go and eat a bag of sweets
Be all jolly,
be all fat,
Boys prefer their girls like that!
I hope….
Rebooting 