Tag Archives: poem about the end of a love affair

Wardrobe Change

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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.

Dear Joan (Note Found Pinned to a Husband Left at the Curbside)

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Dear Joan
(Note Found Pinned to a Husband Left at the Curbside )

We’ve been friends for forever, but I fear that we are through.
I have no further patience for the awful things you do.
Pretending to be humble, but not shouldering  the blame,
you’re just a kindred spirit in appearance and in name.
There’s no need for thanksgiving for you are that crafty kind
who is an ally when it’s easy but vanish in a bind.
Your friendship is fair weather, for you suddenly get busy
when good times are over and my life is in a tizzy.

I find myself alone in most times of perturbation.
Then you reappear when it is time for celebration.
Our need for help’s not only when we’re rolling in the clover,
so when it comes to friendship, I think our time is over.
A real friend should be one who also shares in all your sorrows
instead of all that sharing that happens when she borrows
appliances and money, your clothes and then  your house.
Then before you notice it, she’s borrowing your spouse.

So I must insist that you find a different friend.
There is really nothing new left for me to lend.
You’ll need a better job now that you have my honey,
for I am the one, my dear, who’s always had the money.
You’ll be needing to support him in his accustomed manner.
He needs a proper tailor and a booth to make him tanner.
He prefers the Riviera, Monte Carlo for the gambling,
a Lear jet for his weekends, Maseratis for his rambling. 

He was whining like a puppy—a most pitiful yelp—
when I dumped him at your walk-up, so I hope that you can help
him carry all his baggage up to your third-floor flat.
I fear he’s not accustomed to labor such as that.
Feed him three square meals a day. He fancies caviar.
But watch him like a hawk. I wouldn’t trust him very far.
You might survey your friends again and find one who is plucky
who will take him off your hands for you if you are really lucky!!!

 

Prompt words today are humble, shoulder, kindred, thanksgiving and kind. Photo by 俊逸 余 on Unsplash, used with permission.

 

Paronomasia

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Paronomasia

Sunshine lies today.
It lies on the backs of the cupped palms of plumeria,
floats on the surface of the pool.
The outdoor cat
brings it in on his gleaming back
as he streaks through a sun ray
on his way to steal the indoor cat’s breakfast.

So, though I am prone to gloom,
I compromise with a small journey
to meet friends for coffee and croissants
and conversation reminiscent of talks
with ghosts before they were ghosts.

My bright hair the color of the hay
that he picked out of it.
His skin the gleam of ebony
in the high mountain air.

That sparkling past turned dull
before its ending.
Choosing which part to remember,
that daily decision.
Whether we choose to say
that sunshine lies or not.

 

Prompts today are sunshine, reminiscent, prone and compromise. Here are the links:
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/04/18/your-daily-word-prompt-sunshine-april-18-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/04/18/reminiscent/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/04/18/fowc-with-fandango-prone/
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/04/18/rdp-thursday-compromise/
and for dVerse Poets

Dashed Hopes

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Dashing the Hopes of a First-time Suitor

She finds your fawning chivalry to be rather monotonous,
your brain quite adolescent and your physique quite neotonous.
Your compulsion to be healthy to her seems dull and boring,
which prompts my speculation that you likely won’t be scoring.

 

jdb Photo: Photo is for illustration only.  In no way is the poem intended to represent the two lovely young people it depicts.  The prompts today are speculate, health, chivalry and monotonous. The links are:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/03/04/rdp-monday-speculate/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/03/04/fowc-with-fandango-health/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/03/04/your-daily-word-prompt-chivalry-march-4-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/03/04/monotonous/

Silver Platter

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Silver Platter

I would not have your heart, my dear, on a silver platter,
for it does not seem to hold the things that really matter.
It only holds the riches to which greedy men aspire.
It does not hold the sentiments that stir us or inspire.
Humor and humility you lack in equal measure.
I fear that life with you would be lacking in the pleasure
that is the spice of living—that gives existence savor.
Life with you would just be rich, but sadly lacking flavor.
So keep your diamonds and your yacht and stow your silver platter.
I’d rather spend my time acquiring things that really matter!

For Daily Inkling’s prompt Silver Platter.

Dear John

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Dear John

I am impervious to your wiles.
Your mephistophelian guiles
that work so well on other wenches
will no more draw me to their trenches.

For though you are adorable,
the games you play are horrible.
The traps you lay? Deplorable.
Thus, I’m no longer scorable.

My thirst for love has been well-quenched.
Seeking a sip, I came out drenched!
Go find another piece of meat
to make your perfect day complete.

Mistakes once made, I don’t repeat.
I’ve found your name and hit “delete.”

 

Prompts for the day are drench, adorable, mephistophelian and complete. Here are the links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/10/27/rdp-saturday-drench/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/10/27/fowc-with-fandango-adorable/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/10/27/mephistophelian/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/10/21/daily-addictions-2018-week-42/complete

“Simmer” (Unlove Spell)

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Unlove Spell

For relief from suffering­­­ and a cure for love,
pluck a feather from a dying dove.
Press the feather in a hemlock crotch,
then fill a cauldron with his favorite scotch.

Wait for dark and stormy weather
to stew the hemlock crotch and feather.
Then add as listed all given below,
stirring steady with flame turned low.

First you write your lover’s name
twelve times and then once again.
Shred this page of caustic prose
with a thorn you’ve pried from a withered rose.

Add the paper, shred on shred,
recalling what he’s done and said.
Cast in the pot, till your mind is freed,
each slight recalled, each dreadful deed.

Add a patch you’ve torn from his favorite chair
and a single strand of his pubic hair,
wedding pictures of Niagara,
nose trimmers, hair dye and Viagra.

Add his hernia girdle and knee-length socks,
his shoes, his T-shirts and his jocks.
Cut all his pants off at the knees
and add them to his soggy T’s.

Stir the cauldron round and round.
If music’s playing, turn up the sound.
Sing along to the lyrics of
song after song of broken love.

“Don’t come home a cheatin’ with a lovin’ on your mind.”
Let these lyrics fill your thoughts—or others of their kind.
Ring up his mother on the phone. Say what he’s done to you.
Record her comments, rip out the tape, and add it to the brew.

Call all his girlfriends, all his buddies, everyone on your block.
Tell them that he’s impotent and has a little cock.
Write a note of what you’ve done and tape it to the pot.
Turn off the flame. Walk out the door. Forget the whole damn lot!!!

This is a rewrite of a poem written 5 years ago, but the image is new. I didn’t notice until after I’d taken this photo how appropriate the name of the pot was!!! The prompt today was simmer.

The Reluctant Gardener

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The Reluctant Gardener

I note the nuance of your kissing
and intuit that I’ll soon be missing
even the last tiny spark
of what we once had in the dark
that, exposed to light of day,
has gradually seeped away.

The occult pleasure of new romance
should, when given half a chance,
bloom and flourish in the light
and with another, surely might.
But something’s absent in your heart
that forbids true love a start.

Some emptiness or darker need
is prone to killing commitment’s seed.
You dig new hole after new hole
with germination no final goal.
Whatever hopes you might have planted,
today you have clearly recanted.

 

The prompt today was nuance.