Donations are essential to keep Write Out Loud going    

Note: No profile exists for this entry - most likely it was deleted.

newstuff

entry picture

The Twenty First of June                                  

 

Midsummer nearly didn’t happen

At least not in our house

Dark clouds threatened to blow it away

Lunch boxes were thrown across the garden

Words were had

A tiger slunk off

Tears fell

 

Midsummer is almost upon us

Though it was not meant to happen

At least not in our house

Guests had to be warned not to come

Cards and invites gingerly put away

Rites of passage books left unread

Books from church on the windowsill forlorn

Words were had

A lynx curled up

But no tears fell

 

Midsummer is two days away

No party hats have been ordered

No celebratory ice-cream or jelly

Even the sunshine is staying away

Midsummer wasn’t meant to happen

At least not in our house

 

 

 

Waites                                                                                                

 

The cream cakes crowd me to the right

A baby cries

And the lady says without smiling

You can stay so long as you aren’t in the way

The loaves stand to attention

The ladies look at me questioningly

Empty plastic trays have tipped

Their contents of buns, almond slices

Eccles cakes and fruit scones

Folk come in and come out

Pronouncing scone scown

Who’s next please?

Strawberries reach out toward my mouth

Jam tarts slide away

Custard tarts smirk

The chocolate éclairs are unimpressed

The potato and onion slices race out of

The shop in high demand

I inch nearer the cream puffs

Keeping my distance from the

Smartie cookies

Gingerbread men cry out

No Big Issue seller on a chair

Outside the door

The reek of sweet pastry

Children in and out

Coins dropping, till shutting

Eyes widening, tongue slavering

The crunch of white paper

Teacakes plopping into bags

Fingers spinning knots into the corners

The sign reads No Dogs Allowed

No Smoking, No mobile phones

A reel of sellotape waits patiently

A lone bread bun on the bottom shelf

Silver and gold metal trays

Yes please, a white twist and a granary

The fruit teacakes yell over at me

The last croissant is mine

The cheese scones are quietly ignored

The till opens again, feet shuffle and slide

Voices voice their requests

Now amongst the steak slices and the meat &

Potato pies, a sausage roll yawns and stretches out

Are you alright for change? She queries

Yes I’m alright for change

Thank you

 

 

Stirling                                    

 

In the eye clinic

poppies tip out of the painting

filling the room

from floor to ceiling.

Through the petals we swim

toward each other

paddling through children,

Duplo, womens magazines,

spiders and eye reading charts.

Suddenly a giraffe leans over

begins to eat up all the poppies

every last one

Until the carpet reappears and

the people stop floating on

a sea of flowers.

 

14 Golden Fibs. ►

Comments

Profile image

Cynthia Buell Thomas

Wed 15th Jul 2009 16:16

Julie, these are terrific - imaginative, well crafted, 'tight', poignant - everything good poetry should be. Each one is complete, doesn't need another thing. Isn't that a great feeling!

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message