The Old Red Dress

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Dirty secrets hidden at the back
Where thigh tingling hems skimmed brown flesh
And sensual hands shifted silk over head
A red dress crumpled on a bed

Sensible knee length neighbours
Await open doors to the usual places
Jilted red dress remains in the dark
Hoping for some reignited spark

Escapes the inner confinements
Clinging to an old friend’s skin
Alluring scents of way back then
And the butterflies dance again

Feeling Small

Poem Below

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Teenage Me

Last week I met a friend from the past. I forgot that she was into fake tanning and was surprised by her colour. She looked great though, just a brown version of how she used to look. It’s guaranteed that any time I ever meet anyone from the past I look awful.  Last week was no exception.  Hair unwashed, clothes chucked on – just the usual look to be honest. We chatted for a short time, all smiles and family chat. “What am I doing with myself? Oh just a childminder” I replied. Why do I always feel like a failure when I bump into the past? I’d love to add that actually I’ve had lots of shit hot jobs and qualifications and I looked great last year (put on a few pounds). I scrub up not too badly either. You can’t do that though. You are taken as is. Chubby and plain with a job that people undervalue. I don’t undervalue it and usually don’t care what people think. I do like me. It’s just that when the past appears, it’s like your past self is judging your present self. I think me from years ago would think it’s a bit of a shame that this is me now.

A while ago I swam past a guy I used to go out with. He tried to say hello and I blanked him. He’s aged well, looks fit and I felt like I haven’t. I felt awful for being so rude and I messaged him to apologise and explained why I ignored him. It was awkward. Here’s a poem about avoiding those people from the past:

 

Saw you just the other day
Took me back in time
When we were young and horny
most of life to climb

I forgot how tall you were
The past looks so grand
You hold on to polished charm
I’m now small and bland

You caught me in the window
Your mouth upturned to .
I hurry on eyes to ground
I’d disappoint you

Don’t know what they’re doing now
People from the past
Meant to keep in touch with some
Never could it last.

PANIC

Warning: Some may find this distressing.  I wrote this thinking of the tough times a friend had whilst growing up.  I spend much of my time with children and wrap them up in cotton wool (take good care of them).  Cannot understand why anyone could hurt a child.

The fork clatters on the floor;

footsteps coming through the door.

“Dropped again you foolish child!”

Clenched fist thumps right beside him.

Child freezes every limb.

 

Words tied up without release;

the waiting crowds’ smiles cease.

“Embarrassed me, silly fool!”

Hammer hand descents to cheek.

Brave face on, don’t be weak.

 

The bed sodden when he wakes.

Hairdryer on before he breaks.

“What the fuck, BABY boy?”

Shoved head first in yellow sheets.

Grabs her belt and then

 

In response to the daily prompt panicked.

Don’t Measure Me

via Daily Prompt: Measure   Don’t measure my age like circles in the tree. Life stutters and flies, neat circles aren’t me.   Don’t judge my career by how high I climb. I’ve been sucked up and lost as work stole my time.   Don’t measure success by the size of my pad. Square footage […]

My First Love

You’re my first love, first fall out. My anchor – never any doubt.   You’re my critic; advisor. My top fan – older and wiser.   You’re my blanket; soft and warm. My shelter – away from the storm.   You’re my safe house; protection. My compass – for lost direction.   You’re my conscience; living […]

(Un)helpful Advice

via Daily Prompt: Criticize

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I have friends with children who often come across overly-critical relatives/friends/random folk in shops,  who believe their advice is best.  I’m sure they often mean well, but many friends have felt like failures because they feel they aren’t doing the parenting thing right.  Here is a poem to reflect this scenario:

 

No bottles love, the breast is best!

When baby sleeps, you must have rest.

He’s only small, don’t let him cry.

You must ensure that nappy’s dry.

No wipes on him, his skin in new.

You can’t do that, I thought you knew.

Not walking yet, I’d check that out.

Oh naughty boy, he must not shout!

You need to clean, house is a mess

You must calm down, he’ll sense your stress

He bit again, need that to stop.

Look there he goes, another strop!

When back to work, you must be bored?

You’ve fancy stuff you can’t afford.

Her down the road, she’s never home.

Her mother’s got those kids alone.

You’re such hard work, what’s wrong with you?

I’m not allowed to say what’s true!

Not critical, just good advice!

You’ve hurt me now, you’re never nice!

 

I’m fortunate that I have an amazing mother who doesn’t get offended if I take or leave her advice. I often leave it 🙂

 

 

Heartless

 It’s slowed. The excitement gone from BOOMBOOMBOOM to          boom                        boom                             boom.   It’s automatic. deep and meaningful no more. Now robots say “How was your day?”   It’s trying less. Waxing, preening, matching. It’s too much work – advances I shirk.   It’s irritating; not laid back lounging. Just plain lazy and […]