Tag Archives: unfaithful lover

Wedding Ows

Wedding Ows

Our wedding plans are complicated by the groom’s lasciviousness
that I find incongruous to his vows of  exclusivi”us”ness.
That marriage vows will tame him I fear will prove misleading.
He’ll make his heart available  as long as it is beating
to any passing lady who looks in his direction,
a fact which as you see has not escaped his bride’s detection.
You might think I’m a martyr to forgive this faithless phony,
but I am looking forward to the future alimony!

Prompt words today are complicated, available, lasciviousness, patient, incongruous and misleading. Image by Nathan Walker on Unsplash.

Dear John

Dear John

My kenspeckle lover, well-known for deceit,
you cannot resist every siren you meet.
If you’re depressed, they brighten your day.
Do you think that I’m so naive and fey
that I do not notice the scent you bring home
when you return from wherever you roam?
If I kept a notebook of all of the times
you were unfaithful and caught them in rhymes,
they would be encyclopedic in length,
devoid of affection and brute in their strength.

I’d be better off, they would prove, if alone,
for “flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone,”
considering all of your dalliance and sin,
if applied to you, would be spread out so thin
that the bone left for me would be naught but a sliver,
my portion of flesh just a scrap of your liver,
the rest of you spread out so far and so wide,
apportioned to lovers you thought you could hide.

I’ve packed up your bags, keeping one of them free
to return the part of you you left with me.
Take it along with you as you depart.
 I’ve already filled that part of my heart
that you have left empty these many long years
with one who’s supplied what you left in arrears.

 

 

Prompts today are: kenspeckle, better, notebook, deceit and depressed.

Kenspeckle: adjective,SCOTTISH, easily recognizable; conspicuous.
“he loved walking in the village, where he was a kenspeckle figure”

Cowboy on an Off-White Charger (Prompts and NaPoWriMo 2021 day 22)

Cowboy on an Off-White Charger

You say I’m queen of your affection, yet your ambit has grown larger.
I hear you’ve put some extra miles on your faithful charger.
You say she is exhausted, her endurance sorely taxed.
She may need reshoeing and your credit card is maxed.

The extent of your travels and the speed with which you charge
have lately increased greatly—to have doubled, by and large.
If our love’s become monotonous, perhaps you seek new favors.
Perhaps you choose to taste delights of various other flavors.

You say your boots are dusty and nonchalantly stroll
out to find a shoeshine boy to cleanse your dirty sole.
Yet what you seek to polish may be a point that’s moot.

I think that what needs polishing may not be a boot.

Prompt words today are dusty boots, monotonous, ambit, speed and queen. The NaPoWriMo prompt today discussed different poetic devices. In lieu of just using one of them, I decided to try to use metonymy, polysemy, synecdoche and metalepsis in one poem. Image by Karen Cantu on Unsplash, used with permission.

The Roue

IMG_9204

The Roue

A fresh bloom picked from the garden was his daily treat.
One day a simple tulip, upright and discreet.
Another day a floozie rose––her petals a bit blowsy.
Wisteria or cherry blossoms, drooping, shedding, drowsy.
Often he’d remarked to friends how romance was so fungible,
for with a garden fully stocked, each flower was expungeable.

 

The prompts for the day were blossom, remark, treat and fungible (mutually interchangeable) For fun, I’m also including this in Cee’s Flower of the Day. Yes, I know expungeable isn’t a word, but it should be, so I’m introducing it into the English language.  Merriam-Webster take heed.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/08/12/rdp73-fungible/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/08/12/fowc-with-fandango-treat/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/remark
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/08/12/blossom/
https://ceenphotography.com/2018/08/11/flower-of-the-day-august-12-2018-dahlia/

Guilty as Charged

Guilty As Charged

Yes, I’m guilty of all charges. I fear I must confess.
It’s true I bought a purse and shoes, then bought the matching dress.
What credit card I charged them on, I can only guess,
but I know what I have spent. Sort of. More or less.
It does no good haranguing me. It does not help to press,
asking if I’ve found the bills, hoping I’ll say yes.


You’re making me feel guilty. Inflicting much duress.
Would it make you happier if I went fashionless?

It’s not like I bought golf clubs, a sports car or a yacht.
Just these paltry fashions are all that I have got.
Yes, the dress is Vera Wang. The shoes are Jimmy Choo.
The diamond bangles matched so well, I really needed two.

When the clerk at Tiffany’s asked what he should do,
charge them on my credit card or just charge them to you,
I asked to see your charge account, and, dear, it was a shock
to see the balance on it. That must have been some rock
you purchased just last fortnight. Might I suggest cash-and-carry
the next time that you buy a gift for your secretary?

 

The WordPress prompt today is guilty.

NaPoWriMo Day 3: Unlove Spell

Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge is write a charm – a simple rhyming poem, in the style of a recipe/nursery rhyme. It could be a charm against warts, or against traffic tickets. It could be a charm to bring love, or to bring free pizzas from your local radio station. I’ve decided to give a recipe to dispel the pain of an unfaithful lover.

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.
Write your lover’s entire name
over and over and over again,
then shred this page of purple 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.
Call 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!!!