Heartwarming and inspirational women's fiction
NaPoWriMo day fifteen. Poem number fifteen was inspired by a line I heard recently in a TV drama which I thought was such a sad line that I had to steal it for the first & part of the second line of this poem. The poem is called Elegy for a Dying Love…
I am losing you.
You do not know it yet but I see it.
I see the snatched looks;
the side glances;
hear your quickened breath;
feel you tremble when he is near. Continue reading “Elegy for Dying Love”
NaPoWriMo Day 30. The end is finally here just as I was getting into my stride. Thirty days and thirty poems, I never thought I would do it but somehow I’ve managed to pull it off without going into complete meltdown although I am ready for a bit of a break to give myself the space to do a few other things.
NaPoWriMo’s Day 30 prompt is to write a goodbye poem so as it’s the last one for this year I thought I’d give it a try. This is a sort of a goodbye poem and it’s called These are the things.
These are the things
These are the things I wanted to say to you
before you left me to sit alone on this big,
old couch where we’d spend our evenings
and where your favourite cushion sits
permanently dented by your rear end. Continue reading “These are the things”
I dreamed again
of the last time I saw you,
that summer’s afternoon long ago.
You had grown since you last wore
those trousers, too short now.
Hair cut to reveal fine features,
your plump child’s face gone.
You were a heartbreaker.
“My mother sometimes loved me” he says, “well that is to say she loved me when it suited her. She was not an affectionate woman, not affectionate at all. As a matter of fact she could be quite unkind.”
“I’m sorry to hear that” I reply, “mothers should always be kind to their children.”
“Yes you would think so wouldn’t you?” His lips part to form something more akin to a grimace than a smile.
I search for phrases, conversational pieces suitable for such a candid revelation. “Was your childhood very unhappy?”
“Oh no” he says “not at all. It was mostly very pleasant. I didn’t know any different you see. I thought everyone’s mother gave kisses as treats to be earned. “
“A mother’s love is usually unconditional” I say.
“Yes apparently so. Still, I had the last laugh” he lets out a sly chuckle. “She’s dead now.”
“Oh dear.”
He claps his hands and rubs them together with glee. “Shall we have some dessert? The Death By Chocolate looks exquisite don’t you think?”
He was still yours when they took him down.
You saw him staring back
through that bug eyed monster,
twisted by the drop.
Somewhere in there
was your beloved son.
There was still a hint of the babe who’d
suckled at your breast,
his fragile milky breath placing
a marker on your soul.
You built him a fortress
and made a mother’s promise. Continue reading “Julia”
“I love you” she said
and saw immediately
from the laughter in his eyes
that this was amusing to him,
funny in that nasty, sneering way.
She’d offered her heart on a plate.
He’d taken it from her,
sliced it up
and swallowed it down,
then belched it out with a look.
She swaddled the remains,
pulled them to her breast
and made a hasty retreat.
Beginnings
A nymph skips lightly across my heart
Painting it golden
In effect it leaves me breathless
Can this be love?
Shit
Sold on the false economy of your promises
I believed you were true.
Hooked on the desire for honesty
I told myself that you were the one
The one
The one who…
Then a heavy dose of reality
Showed me, too late,
It’s all just a series of fairy tales.
Same shit
Different face