Rhonda

Rhonda, my love.

This dress does you honor.

Revealing your soft, alabaster skin

The velvet is the perfect foil

To you auburn hair.

Rhonda, my dear

It gives me great pleasure

To take you to supper with me

Afterwards as we stroll past the shops

We will have a bit of ice cream to eat.

Poem 22-

The clock moves slowly now

Almost standing still

The comments, the posts, the poems

Make little to no sense

My hand cramps from video games and typing

Cat left confused, not understanding his people at all

The snacks have been desecrated

The coffee has been weaned down in preparation for sleep

Yawns take the place of interest

Hour 22,

Inhibitions are gone

Taking common sense with it

They just packed their bags and left the building

All that remains are red eyes

Held open by will alone

Another poem published

Another struggle for words

A fist fight with perseverance

No giving up this close to the end

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Waiting in a Painting

Kind of drab, the color of the wall.
The woman with the updo looks off
in the distance to her left, unsmiling.
She’s probably wondering why
the bouquet hasn’t been brought
to the table yet. She must be an early
bird. There’s no tablecloth, no candles.
Not even a doily. Just a strong white
woman in a long black dress standing
beside the unadorned table.

Or perhaps the woman waits,
impatient for someone to bring
the jewels she intended to wear.
The pearls for her neck and ears.
Where are they, and what of her shoes?
Oh, dear. This is turning tragic
before our eyes. Those uncomfortable
straps. The dreary wall!

16. By the way

By the way

I find a big bag of money

Falling from the sky

By the way

I look up to the clouds

In the sky

And I say

“give me more”

and I see a big smile

Suddenly, it’s raining

Moola and schillings

By the way

I am smiling

By the way

#16

How strange
Memories linger
For years
So real it seems
You could touch
But dare not
Memories touch back

22

Every poet is a little closer to
God than a surgeon but
only one of us makes our readers believe
Worship the scalpel or the scale?

He digs out the bullet,
Pumps an empty stomach of pills,
And I wrote the truth
That put them there.

Black Silk Heart

Gold straps support the black silk heart

across her porcelain skin.

The black silhouette narrows to her waist

And the beauty explodes across her hips

Defining the shapely physique

Rainy day trombone

When you were alone,
you played the trombone
and made your cat Yaten groan.
We all understood
that you weren’t very good,
though if you could tell, it is not known.

You packed it away,
your loneliness at bay
and carried on without dismay.
But your thoughts never left it,
we’ve grown to accept it
that you pull it out on rainy days.

Hour 22 – Prompt 22 – Looking forward to the future

She stood, poised,
ready to take on the world
The ballroom was waiting,
and people were whispering
“Would she falter?”

She stood, poised,
ready to leave the past behind
She had emerged from the cocoon
of her parents sudden death
Her grief was not for display

She stood, poised,
her dress, a conscious choice
Her shoulders bare, free of burdens
The colour black, emphasizing
strength, fearlessness, and elegance

She stood, poised,
ready for the future
The ring on her finger, the
unconditional support of her fiancee
helped her shed her shyness and emerge

She stood, poised,
ready to sit on the empty throne
A queen in the making, her
kingdom, her people were her focus
She had left her insecurities behind

(c) Vijaya Gowrisankar