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Open Poetry #49
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Redstart
Senior Member
since 2014-05-16
Posts 535


0 posted 2015-01-17 07:50 PM


Pulling fingernails was not her style
Nor a ride down the mare of steel
She was no female, terrible Ivan
But she knew my Achilles' heel

She hissed, six and seven, nine and four
Are you seven away from a score?
I screamed, wench of pain,leave me alone
Just get my shrink on the phone!

A baker's dozen, to her was pure fun
She said, are you starting to sweat
Unlucky for some, she said with a smirk
Now have you considered that yet?

She peeled two pears, then eleven more
By now, fear had struck to the core
What concoction was left?
She had me bereft
As into my psyche she tore

Then, as hope wisped away on the fear
She smiled, enough is enough
Placed, gently, the eight of spades in my hand
As the five of hearts fell from her cuff!

[This message has been edited by Redstart (01-18-2015 02:57 AM).]

© Copyright 2015 Redstart - All Rights Reserved
Lori Grosser Rhoden
Member Patricius
since 2009-10-10
Posts 10202
Fair to middlin' of nowhere
1 posted 2015-01-18 07:32 AM


Aren't you the creative one! Of all the unique topics! I really enjoyed this bit of fun you concocted. Thank you!
Margherita
Member Seraphic
since 2003-02-08
Posts 22236
Eternity
2 posted 2015-01-18 12:58 PM


This brought broad smiles, you always give your poems a terrific rhythm, as this one shows so clearly.

Margherita

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