The One Night Stand

 

The high heels
Make her hips sway
As she cuts through.

The carefully drawn face
Something to hide behind.
Masking the insecurity.

The thrown together look,
Carefully measured,
Hiding as much as it emphasises.

A song fills her body and
Under her breath she hums
“For I’ve been a temptress too long”

The game she plays is too easy,
A glance, a flick of hair.
A smile, promising so much.

She lures them in,
Fluent in flirty banter.
Her fingers twirling a strand of hair.

With the hint of a fumble,
Most are snared.
But tonight she’s tired of the game.

Someone has caught her eye,
Maybe this one will be different.
“Give me a reason to love you.”

 

A Wednesday Three Word Prompt poem! This week the words were Fumble, Glance, Banter. I was listening to a Portishead song Dummy while writing this, which is where the quotes come from.

Up Too Early

She was up far too early.
Her flushed face child now back to sleep.
The new day was taunting her,
Reminding her that time moved forward,
There was no pause to recover.

Her eyes stung in protest.
The body ached and groaned,
Dry, rough hands rubbed her tired face.
Outside the milk bottles jingled on the float,
The street light flickered.

Packed lunches, school bags, washing,
All called to her.
Perfect eyelashes on rosy cheeks,
Skin unblemished yet by life.
Kept her still, listening to the breath.

The three words for this weeks prompt are Early, Jingle and Quality.

Tornado

This month, my writers group’s prompt was a picture of a small tornado.  So this is my memory of a tornado relationship!

Tornado

You. You were my tornado.
Appearing suddenly, you sucked me in,
Pulling me into your centre,
Where in the quiet I thought I could see your heart, your soul.
In this artificial world I dallied, the centre of your eye.
Surrounded by you, blinded to the edge of destruction.

Your mouth brushed my neck as you whispered to me.
My ears, hearing only you, not the world around being torn apart.
I surrendered to you, tip-toeing within my confined space,
Distracted as thoughts spiralled.
But I wanted more, my fingers trail along your sides,
Feeling your power.

Then I’m flying, swept up
Amongst all the flotsam and jetsam of your life,
I’m not the only baggage you carry.
My eyes finally opened to the chaos around me.
But it’s too late, this is survival,
My tangled heart, the price for dalliance.

Dandelion Girl

This poem is dedicated to my middle child. Who looks at the world through different eyes and is my endless inspiration.  I write under her nickname to show her that anything can be overcome if you put your mind to it.

Dandelion Girl

A halo of hair, caught in the sunlight.
Every fibre defiant to the end.
Whiskers, helping her to find her way.
To keep her safe.
An inspiration to me.
This is my dandelion girl.

Her gaze pauses, a moment of stillness,
In her otherwise flowing movement.
Green eyes flick to me.
The smile spreads outwards,
Engulfing me in fire and love.
This is my dandelion girl.

Then she is gone.
Sure footed, mind soaring.
The world vibrating a little round her.
A spinning planet, drawing others closer.
Her golden soul sparkles and glitters.
This is my dandelion girl.

The Goodbye

Cloud watching in the rain,
Somewhere near I hear my name.
It’s just an echo from the past
Ripples spreading after stone was cast.
I nestle deep amongst the leaves,
Guarded by the nearby trees.

A quiet chance to say goodbye
Tears glistening, blurring in my eye.
Your name so close, is on my lips,
I caress them slowly with fingertips.
For you, my love, wished me strong,
But how can I be when you are gone?

Wedding Petals

This month, my writers group had to write an autobiography of ‘anything’.  The idea being that everyday objects/ things have a story hidden in them. We then had to write a life story of one of those “things”.

This is the poem it inspired:

Wedding Petals

The bud emerges shielded in green.

Slowly layers slip down her shoulders,

Until she stands proud in all her glory.

Ripples of elegant white,

Perfumed for her her grand entrance.

A hand reaches, deft in touch,

Separating her with a single stroke.

She didn’t feel it coming.

Her sisters are nestled beside her,

As daylight is slowly smothered.

Heat and dark.

Moisture leaches from her being,

Until only a fragrant ghost remains.

Then more hands, tearing her asunder,

Placing the delicate remains in a box.

A sweaty hand, swoops her fragments,

Releasing her for one last flurry.

Her curtain call of waxy grace.

Normal Service Will Resume Shortly

An emotional week, then a phone call from one of my oldest and best friends.  I have so many words at the end of my finger tips and yet I don’t think I managed a single one when that storm hit.  Suddenly the world felt a little larger.  Instead of being able to hold her, I was holding my phone, one finger in the ear surrounded by screaming children.

I’m sorry my darling.

We spoke the next day and this time it was her, finding all the right words for me. Showing me in the mirror what I could be, that there really is no excuse for not putting myself forward for things; take chances.  To stop looking for support and validation in what I do from those around me.  She is so strong, so much stronger then she thinks and such an inspiration to me.