Tag Archives: movie actresses

By Association

By Association

The tale she told was cautionary. Her hypnotic flame
scorched the Earth, contributing to her epic fame.
The parts she played as villainous, scheming shrewish dame
lapped over into her life, where she was held to blame
for legendary bad girls who, though fictional in name,
her fans were sure depicted her nature all the same.
So, though her personality was kind and mild and tame,
those who knew her only from the movie game,
from her roles as Jezebel, The Wicked Witch and Mame,
believed that she herself was as evil as they came.

 

Prompt words today are scorch, hypnotic, cautionary, blame and part.

Wardrobe Change

Image by Ivan Dodig on Unsplash. Used with permission

Wardrobe Change

Her sequined dress, once fabulous, has lost its shape and glitter.
It lies beneath her window, reduced to roadside litter.
She might have been more charitable—donating the gown.
They could have earned a pretty penny for a dress of such renown.
But she needs its story ended. She could not bear to face
another woman’s body and another woman’s face
pictured in the tabloids in that gown made just for her.
Its memories running through her mind, quickly, in a blur.

Trips down long red carpets, the flashbulbs and the fuss.
Minding how she sat so its gathers would not muss.
How its beauty cut into the soft mounds of her flesh.
The sharp knives of its edges. The fine silk of its mesh.
The fusing of those opposites—the pleasure and the pain.

His gentle kiss, but how, at last, he left her once again.
The lovely words once spoken that turned out to be just script.
The dress tugged off in anger. The dress she’d pulled and ripped

to be free of all it brought to mind—the glamour and the pain.
Best it be diminished by harsh sun and rain.
She flung it out the window, not caring where it rested.
Rid of it, would painful memories be bested?
Covered up by road dust, bogged down by stormy weather,
sequins floated gutters, each weightless as a feather.
Threads loosened and seams parted as the garment ceased to be—
its combined pains and pleasures consigned to memory.

Prompt words today are charitable, litter, fabulous and dress.

Birthday Preferences of an Aging Starlet

Birthday Preferences of an Aging Starlet

Buy me no presents, bake me no cake.
Hang no reminders for my sake.
All these attempts to jubilate me
simply serve to aggravate me.

Let birthday banners remain furled.
Share not the knowledge with the world
that I, alas, am one year older.
Strike it from my bio folder.

This trend of aging gracefully
does not work for dames like me
who strut our stuff upon the stage,
for starlets aren’t allowed to age.

In lieu of throwing me a bash,
why not simply give me cash?
I’ll put the money to good use
obscuring aging’s cruel abuse.

Advancing years require rebuttal,
so I prefer to be more subtle.
I need a simple tuck of face
ere I approach the casting place.

I won’t allow youth to defy me.
while I have means to petrify me.
So spare me cards soulful or funny
I prefer you give me money!!

Prompt words today are subtle, cash, knowledgejubilate and bake.

 

 

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Ready for Your Close-up.” Cast the movie of your life.

Judy2PremiereMovie Me––Runway pose, no Closeup!

Many Me’s

When you cast the movie of my life
as student, girlfriend, traveler, wife,
as a toddler, cast me as
a curious, chubby little spazz
with scabby knees—a sort of clown
very adept at falling down!
Will any kid with sunny view do?
Yes. Except—for Honey Boo Boo!

In my child years, perhaps spanning
age four to eight, just pick some Fanning.
But at age nine or ten, I fear
I grew a rather chubby rear.
like Honey Boo Boo? Yes, I guess.
Yet still I’d be in some duress
if you cast that child as me.
Please oh please, don’t let it be!

As a preteen, I was thin
and sang duets with my friend Lynn,
and though I hadn’t half her gift,
just cast me as Taylor Swift!
But when it’s time to go to college,
to gain a sort of further knowledge,
I think you’d better move along
and send her back to her own song.

Leelee Sobieski could
then play me if she only would––
at least until I’m through with school,
although I was not half so cool.
Then, as I begin to travel,
my other sides to then unravel,
Helen Hunt might be the one
to represent travails and fun

of traveling in climes most strange.
She has the acting skills and range
to play me as I looked and pondered,
taught and loved and learned and wandered
Australia, Bali, Singapore,
from door to door to door to door.
Those two lines etched over her nose
grace my face, too, because of woes

that nonetheless I wouldn’t trade
for years spent safe within the shade
of front porch roof and front porch swing
wherein I learned not one new thing.
As I grow older, I change and change.
And so I need a “me” with range
from teacher, artist, writer, spouse––
who alternates from road to house.

Sometimes at home writing my blog,
(my only company a dog
or two or three, and just one cat
to define clearly where I’m at)
I yearn to be out in the crowd,
with dancing feet and head unbowed
to laptop or to artist bench,
and I feel that well-known wrench

of travels to another clime
but worry if I have the time
to do the things within my heart–
to finish all that I might start.
I need a me to sort these things
and bring me all a good life brings––
perhaps to make decisions for me,
choose a life that doesn’t bore me.

Then perhaps we could reverse
our lives and I could then rehearse
the life presented in her depiction.
A real life can learn much from fiction!
So for these final years I need
a woman strong in thought and deed.
Who can show me how to see
all that I was meant to be.

For when I lay me down to sleep,
I’d like to go as Meryl Streep!