Friday, November 29, 2013

for the love of George

Once there was a girl
Who fell in love with a boulder
The moment she laid eyes on it
She was love struck and more over

And so every where she went
She took the mineral with her
George the boulder, was perfect
Her tough and silent lover

Many a moments they shared
In beautiful silent perfection
But all changed when one romantic day
She decided to pop the question

On a rowboat the two sailed
Gently down a peaceful river
She swallowed hard and braced herself
Nerves shaking, she began to stutter

"Dearest love, you are the one.
I can love no other but you.
Will you marry me
and make me happiest true?"

She waited and waited and waited
But there never came a reply
Only sounds of birds chirping
And fishes swimming by

She got mad and threw poor George
OFF the boat and down it went
But still not a peep from the rock
As it made the long wet descent

Immediately after, she was wracked with regret
And soon jumped after her rocky lover
But she struggled with its terrible weight
And alas, they went to their watery doom together

THE END.

Monday, November 25, 2013

pretty girls

Pretty girls, pretty girls,
Hair flowing in the wind
Painted are their dainty hands
and perfumed are their skin

Pretty girls, pretty girls
With ruby lips, soft and red
With limbs so slender and waists so small
It's as if they never eat at all

But I am not a pretty girl
My hair is matted down with sweat
And rough are my hands from work
With plenty of cuts and bruises at that

No perfume for me
Save the stink of hard labour
And my body made thick
By toiling through the hours

No no I am not a pretty girl
But I am a girl nonetheless
And behind this calloused hands
Is a dreamer in a dress

I am

What am I?
What am I but flesh and bone?
What am I but a whispering memory
When i am dead and gone?

What am I?
I am nothing but another of the same
No Queen am I, but a mere pawn
In this cold uncaring game

What am I?
Just another passerby in the streets
I am just another smile
Hiding bloody knives beneath white sheets

What am I?
I am a poet who has abandoned her rhymes
My pen bled dry and made dull
By complacence and Father Time.