Month: June 2015

Her Monopoly on Luck

She will sashay around the houses
Glide over Park Lane and Mayfair
Yet grumble about her time spent
On Old Kent Road
Where she had to talk
To a man, that was a dog
Trying to chase a top hat
in the wind

If she finds herself
behind bars
Flush with cash
She will still roll the die
And grumble at the double
Thrown on the third try
Instead of the first
She’s so unlucky

When she takes a chance
on life, on the game
She gets a trip to Pall Mall
That’s declared a waste
She never had to pass go
Never mind the opportunity
to buy, arose from this
The deed quietly tucked away

She catches a train
Two in fact
Yet complains
About sharing the connection

Pouts at not winning
The beauty competition
The grey note scrunched
In her hand
As the banker glares

It’s not fair
When she gets hit for street repairs
Those ten hotels make a dent
If only she had none
Like the iron
So unjust

Life was just not fair
To a girl like her

Craving a Getaway

The streetlights flicker as he crosses the road
My heart thumping through my chest
As I slow my pace

Let them overtake
That’s what they say isn’t it
All the self help guides
About staying out of trouble
Slow down
Keep safe

The raindrops patter lightly
On my umbrella
Does it really shelter me
Does it hide my trepidation
Will these flimsy sticks of metal and webbing
Really shield me
From the reality

The footsteps pause
Do I dare glimpse around
I hear the flick
Flick of a lighter
I stop holding my breath
And inhale deeply
As I walk past him
In a borrowed overcoat
And tinted glasses

I sigh.
Relieved at the discovery
The getaway he desired
so often,
Only an old craving
He wanted to hide
I get that,
We all have our secrets

I shake off the umbrella
Hand my coat to the attendant
And join him at the bar
Yes, we both need a getaway
To fulfil our old cravings

I thought I would try something different today and grab some inspiration from a prompt and after finding Mara Eastern’s blog, I felt inspired to join in with the Poetry 101 Rehab idea of using ‘Getaway’ as a starting point.

I initially started off with the idea of getting away from somebody but as you can see it kind of spiralled into a different direction, though I think I like the outcome, seems different to my usual writing.

That Cockney Attraction

Roll up, roll up,
You’ll want to see
This wondrous sight
I guarantee

Those gangster hippos
wearing shades
in pin stripe suits
hawking their trades

To strutting tigers
in flat caps
and skin lined coats
They’re fake…perhaps

Or maybe you want
a vision less brutal
chimney sweep penguins
miming a recital

Bowler hat bears
could be more favourable?
With lemons on faces –
Apples unavailable

Ladies and Gentlemen
You may well prefer
Feasting your mince pies
On a real connoisseur

The top hatted otter
with gilded monocle
sometimes quite fussy
but always methodical

Though boys and girls
Might like to see
Those Burberry
clad chimpanzees

Then for all you
sporting types
a chance to swim
in with the pikes

So as you can see
there’s plen’y ter do
Come buy yaaahr ticket
For London Zoo!

Marked territory

“You cannot nuzzle inside my head”

These are the words I hear as I press my cheek against his.

A tigress
marking her scent
on the bark
of a tree

Nudging against the confines of her boundaries
Eager to keep her sacred ground

I move in closer, smothering her scent with my sweat.

Fading presence


You slip

Away from me

Every night

Every morning

Every hour

of your absence


I try to hold you

Etching your face

into my eyelids

Imploring my ear drums

Not to forget

Your sweet dulcet tones

Beseeching my body

Not to dull the tingle

The shiver of you


Yet with each passing day

Each passing hour

You slowly fade

and die in me

Warm nights

It’s warm,
Too warm to sleep
Yet he manages

Thick air clambering at his throat
Musky claws grasping at his clammy skin
Studded with jewels of scented sweat
Glistening in dim light, he struggles to breathe
A deep gargle of pollen clad air
Causes a snort of suffocation
The mask of intoxication
Peeling back his dreams
Leaving only a crisp clean layer
of subjugation

Yet somewhere
on the other side of town
She lies awake, shivering
Pressed against frigid sheets
Knees tucked into her chest
Dithering in the tepid air
Yet all the while thinking
Of a man she once knew
And how warm it used to be

Weak Day

I couldn’t leave you like that
A crumpled heap of overused clichés
Damp and sodden with wine
Your mind over analysing
Stretching the perforations
Scratching the threads of scars
Demonising your very existence

“You didn’t leave me,
for that I thank you,
Thankfully it wasn’t a weekday

Sweet consummation

You melt, on my tongue
The slight murmur as you curl
into my moistness
You sizzle and sigh as I taste you
Closing my mouth tight
around your form

You pop

Against the back of my throat
An eruption of energy
that softens to a low hum

Sweet… intoxicating
Your juice sliding over my taste buds
As I lap up the remnants from my palm
The gentle trace of you
Clinging to my lips
Swept up by a quick lick
All trace of you

Leaving just the tell tale packet of foil

There is an art to enjoying popping candy…