At The Round Table:

She’s not sure she thinks of herself as attractive anymore:

The daily battles had whittled her down so that there was nothing left,

Just a soul-less sack of saggy flesh and brittle bones that would make good compost,

Besides, the only thing she knew for sure about love was that it was transient,

And yet in the five years since she had vowed to never get close to another man,

She’d had three wonderful relationships – each one better than the last,

And leading her closer to the holy grail (but delusions are tricky things),

God give her strength!

girl alone

 

 

 

35 was my lucky number:

Maybe it was time to go back,

She knew he would be there waiting for her,

But then she remembered his emotional betrayal,

She hadn’t rekindled their connection for that!

She was trying to improve her life,

Not to take a step back.

 

There are silent battles and steep hills,

But she’s spread-eagled on the ground,

With shield & weapon flung aside,

And her breath just won’t return,

Love had become her enemy,

And the summit seemed ever so far.

girl and man one by one

 

 

 

She Sleeps With The Light On…

. . . Just in case,

The night is still,

There’s not a sound,

Except the rumbling of a distant truck,

Which propels her into a memory;

It was of the time when she had her babies,

A marriage bed full of passion, youth & hope,

It was a time long before these lean times.

 

She sleeps with the light on because . . .

The phone might ring;

The Angel of Death in Her chariot,

Has swept down again, mercilessly and,

In her cruel and twisted way has,

Extracted another of her loved ones.

 

She sleeps with the light on,

So that the memory of her lost loves,

Doesn’t overwhelm her,

Because they can’t – you know – if you have the light on,

The memory of the contour’s of their bodies,

Their gentle or wild thrusts,

Their whispered indulgences,

All held at bay.

 

She sleeps with the light on,

To stop the snoring in the empty room,

The footsteps on the hallway boards,

The growling from the ceiling,

The ghosts remain invisible and can’t see you,

Or hurt you with the light on.

 

She sleeps with the light on,

So that if she wakes with a night terror,

She will instantly see her lovely things around her,

And, after some time,

Gain some comfort and soothe herself back to sleep.

 

She sleeps with the light on,

Because she doesn’t know what awaits her in the black dimension;

Dreams of babies long gone,

Lovers lost, souls removed from her life by death,

Quick as a flash and still half in slumber,

She can grab her pencil & paper,

And jot down the rhymes – such as this one – as they come to her at 3am.

umbr

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of Ponds & Balmy Nights:

He approves of almost everything about her,

And enjoys being her hero,

So when she says she needs time,

To concentrate on her relationship with her,

He holds her so tightly that it almost hurts,

She knows he’ll always be there if she changes her mind,

“Don’t sit by the pond without me, particularly on those balmy nights!”

He will anyway,

She knows it.

 

Mr Wordsmith:

She liked to “rescue” the hopeless cases,

Or that was what she was told anyway,

But also, he had to have a way with words,

To read her soul, to woo her back as she was walking away,

Reminisce over the good times,

Talk to her about nothing, in particular, to relax her,

Gratefully receive her mementos of love (poetry mainly),

If all of these boxes were checked, then yes, she’d take it!

He would become the latest soon-to-be ex,

Completely worthy of her love.

man and brain

 

 

When God Doesn’t Exist:

Hedonists will reason,

Hedonists will talk,

They’ll let you know,

You’re not the thing,

If you exercise or walk.

 

They’ll try to get you drunk,

And they’ll try to drug your drink,

They don’t have children of their own,

But they’ll tell you what they think.

 

The first to point out all your faults,

They never see their own,

Yet somehow remain puzzled,

That they can’t give the dog a bone 🙂

cards

 

 

 

Winter dreams:

The way we were – dream theme song

She hears snoring in the next room,

But there’s no-one there,

Is it the ghost of him, him, him or him?

But before that she had awoken from a dream,

About her lost love,

It had the saddest theme song,

But even before that,

Before sleep,

She had written a poem about her dead brother,

This dark night of the soul,

Is taking ever so long,

And she still feels nothing …

girl leaving gif carmen aragon

 

Between my fingers:

She falls:

From grace,

From sight,

From God,

From herself.

 

It’s when she sleeps,

She meets them again;

All her lost loves,

The ones she let slip between her fingers.

 

girl and sleep

The Test:

She knows it’s a test!

He’s lying there,

In the next room,

And somehow she must resist:

Throaty nothings whispered,

Into her ear,

And that pelvic thrust…

But no, no!

She must resist,

Drowning in her desires,

But this time she would pass the test.

girl0987uty

 

 

A new technique…

… that’s going to change her life,

From now on she won’t be able to remember,

The evil men, the nightmares, the monsters,

The Therapist promises;

From now on a new life full of hope & wonder.

 

She wakes up the next day,

Who is she? The memories have gone,

But so has she!

She has become a faceless being with no name.

girl - after the lobotmy, shes forgotten who she is