Here is the poem I meant to put up yesterday. It is in the style of most of the poetry I wrote in the late seventies, early eighties – quirky and a bit silly, but inspired by my hero poets of the day. If you’re reading on your i-phone, turn it sideways for a better read.
The Tapestry Powder Room
From the fireplace the ladies appeared to be beautifully undressed
Two rather portly and middle-aged dames
agreed that the blonde mermaid in the purple panty girdle
should have been telling tails
instead of painting daggers on the mirrors
but then who were they to think
Their husbands had just that week wrapped their minds
in plastic wrap
to discourage the dissenters from gathering there
When the fragile but delinquent child
surreptitiously peed behind the gold water-pipes
her aunt began an incessant chatter
about King Neptune and his sea domain
I felt an overwhelming sympathy for the ageing prostitute
who kept slipping on the glass floor
Little did she realise it might have been
her liberal use of the lavender perfumed soap bars
She just scrubbed and scrubbed
reiterating that she loved her profession
had absolutely no hang-ups
She went through three soap bars as I watched
In the farthest corner
almost escaping my notice
stood a lady barber
trying desperately to climb aboard a woven carriage
Those elusive nags just kept moving on a little
each time she had a foot on the step
She muttered sadly beneath her breath
something about bringing a razor next time
But as I turned from the fireplace to take a closer look
I realised this was a tapestry of Queen Mary
and her ladies in waiting
Here’s another one – a simple little piece that made me smile to re-read it
Loving you
is clasping your pillow to my breast
soon after you’ve gone
Burying my face in its warmth
Smiling at the sweet smell of your hair
the odour of you
the part of you that l i n g e r s
Grieving as the day wears on
and that part of you
f
a
d
e
s
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Till next time,
Warmly,
Sue