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Open Poetry #47
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lydia's mirror (re-write)
| Open Poetry #47 |
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lydia's mirror (re-write) |
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Alison 
since 2008-01-27
Posts 9318Lumpy oatmeal makes me crazy! 
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she ignores the mirror until saturday night when she dresses in a red shimmery satin sequined goin’ out dancin’ dress, nimbly buckles criss cross ankle straps on black spiked heels shiny ~ and whispers, he calls them my ‘do me shoes' touching tongue tip to thick “ruby red bright” lipstick, thicker than on Wednesday bingo nights with the girls or friday go-to-town alone safeway shopping day fresh perfumed “evening in paris” hair caresses bared skin strands of pearls dangle to tease deep cleavage V it’s a goin’ out dancin’ saturday night emerald eyes sparkle below penciled in brows, sable brown cheeks generously rouged and she dances dances to the mirror confident he will take her in his arms again but, again the mirror denies and defeats the beauty before it searing green eyes flash with anger then submits to dismal reality damn damn the polished glass, the tattered moth holes, dangling sequins and heels cracked and split and damn him for dying before she had completely forgotten tears water-color wash make up into a ravaged, time-worn face - Alison (rewritten ~ originally posted in PiP under the name "aziza") |
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| © Copyright 2011 Alison - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Margherita Member Seraphic
since 2003-02-08
Posts 22236Eternity |
Incredibly vivid work, dear Alison. So hopeful and joyful in the beginning to end up in the sad reality, but what a poetic journey! Any cineast would be enthusiastic about filming this scene you have masterfully rendered. Love, Margherita  |
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Dark Stranger Member Patricius
since 2001-03-19
Posts 13631West Coast |
that aziza was hot,,but she ate lumpy oatmeal....enjoyed this one babe |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
searing green eyes flash with anger then submits to dismal reality damn damn the polished glass, the tattered moth holes, dangling sequins and heels cracked and split ~*~ such pictures you paint, Ali gal... good stuff, all of it... but this hit home. |
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faithmairee Senior Member
since 2011-01-05
Posts 1441Poe Haven, USA |
this is good...very, very good, Alison...great diction and imagery...loved it. There must be a poem in here somewhere. |
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Klassy Lassy Member Elite
since 2005-06-28
Posts 2187Oregon |
Mirrors always catch what we don't want to look at or feel, and throws it back at heart level. I waited for the one last last perfect touch and felt the gaff of reality harpoon the dream. Powerful poetry, Alison.  ~K |
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dreamgal Member
since 2011-03-17
Posts 442 |
I really loved this Allison. I was so into it i read it twice. Great Job!!! Dreamgal |
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jwesley Member Rara Avis
since 2000-04-30
Posts 7563Spring, Texas |
Ah my friend, this was wonderful! j. |
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steavenr Member Elite
since 2003-11-17
Posts 4058 |
extremely good... perhaps it is just me, but when I got to this part: "the tattered moth holes, dangling sequins and heels cracked and split and damn him for dying before she had completely forgotten tears water-color wash make up into a ravaged, time-worn face" all I was convinced that I could see was Miss Havisham...what an amazing ride |
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OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa |
Oh my goodness! This was brilliant! The end shocked and brought tears to my eyes, but it was brilliant! I didn't see a taste of Miss Havisham of Great Expectations until Steaven mentioned it. Strange coincidence that Philip in the book was called Pip. Your excellent poem reminds me of a dreadful piece of prose I wrote as a 16-year old, with the same theme: THE HEIRLOOM 1961 As her fingers rippled over the ivory keys of the grand piano, her hands dainty and smooth and her long graceful fingers drawing out the joys and sorrows that Chopin painted into his music, she was swept into another world - a world of tall, melancholy trees and small chattering brooks, peaceful English meadows and wild cruel tundras, of desperate longing and of peace, of rapturous, painful happiness and a world of memories. “Time was away and somewhere else” as she slipped through fern forests inhaling the cool, damp air and watched icy waterfalls slip over the rocks above her in a long, silver line to dive into deep, cavernous pools below. Her first evening dress - a filmy dream of soft blue, her wedding day, and then that small bundle of joy that stayed for such a short time - all floated through her mind as the music penetrated her soul. She loved and hated, gave and received, till her heart, filled with intermingled feelings, was bursting. She could bear it no longer! Giving a low, almost inaudible sigh, she trailed her old, gnarled hands through the dirty water in the kitchen sink and picked up a broken cup. Owl |
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Alison
since 2008-01-27
Posts 9318Lumpy oatmeal makes me crazy! |
Thank you, dear friends. I am glad that Lydia touched you. Alison |
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BluesSerenade Member Patricius
since 2001-10-23
Posts 10549By the Seaside |
Oh Alison, this is beautiful and so bittersweet. What a great capture of emotions, each one so colorful, so real and true. Love reading your work, good poetess~ |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Alison...looking into the mirror of the soul strips away everything but the truth, as it should. A profound poem. |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
I've been seeing this for weeks and never bothered to check it out, Alison. For some reason the "re-write" bothered me. Well, I am happy to say I broke down and here I am, and I could kick myself in the rear-end for not coming sooner. You have penned a stunner. It was good, excellent actually as I read down the verses and was getting better and better, the descriptive language just soared. But what made this poem THE poem that is is, of course, is the ending and the abject dismay at realizing it was all just make believe. No matter how much makeup she applied and how beautiful she thought the dress was and the lipstick, et al., it was all decay and heartbreak. There is one good thing. she felt alive and beautiful and ravishing for a little while. I'm impressed. ~ If you don't want gays in the military, make the uniforms ugly. ~ |
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Alison
since 2008-01-27
Posts 9318Lumpy oatmeal makes me crazy! |
Thank you all. I am touched. Jerry, I wrote a lot of poems under the name "aziza" when I first joined PiP. I have been reading them and many I have left alone, but some still touch my heart. I have grown a bit as a writer (I hope) and I am a few years older so my perspective has changed a bit. I have all my poems printed, but some just have to grow with me. Alison |
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