mystery

Who was that dame?

lillian11 Comments

In her day, she was what you’d call
a hot tomato.
Smoky eye shadow, red ripe luscious lips.
Many a bloke put the squeeze on her,
but failed.
She sat perched at the bar
finely dressed.
Fox stole draped over bare shoulders.
Bosom heaving as she laughed at them.
As midnight struck,
leaving their raw desire behind
she’d saunter out into the London fog.
Night after night after
night after night until
New Year’s Eve, nineteen twenty-seven,
her bar stool sat empty –
and she was never seen again.

It’s Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Melissa (who recently celebrated her birthday!) tells us it’s National Spicy Guacamole Day. Who knew? She provides us with a long list of words that I suspect are from a guacamole recipe, and asks us to use at least 4 of these words in our poem for today. I’ve used the following: tomato, smoky, red, ripe, squeeze, finely, and raw. A fun prompt indeed! Image from Pixabay.com

A November Morning, 1883

lillian25 Comments

She walked the lane alone
but not lonely in her solitude.
Sun deserting the sky above,
unforgiving stone beneath her feet.
Cold seeped into her bones.
Barren trees stood starkly,
as if joining in her grief.
This day she walked
to the burial ground,
basket of pinecones in hand.
She would spread them on his grave,
autumnal offering for her sin.

Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.

Today we’re working with ekphrastic poetry: poems written about works of art. Merril asks us to choose from several paintings she provides, and write a poem inspired by one of them. I’ve selected the painting, A November Morning (1883) by John Atkinson Grimshaw. I’ve taken the liberty of borrowing his title for my title as well.