White had always served me well:
Improving the faults of my genetic code
De-sizing the breasts, slimming the thighs.
Harold said he loved every inch of me
He died a happy man.
I married in white, never considered myself
to be angelic; colour has such a transforming effect.
To a certain degree.
-It cannot veil the face of death.
From the tube of toothpaste with its insides squeezed
out, hanging meekly over the rim of the holder,
to the apple that shrivels on the sill
visuals of what’s to come.
Why worry about what to wear vanity fuels the living
Will those that mourn mind what drapes this skeleton form
Should I cover up to lessen the impact?
Black seems to formal
I first made love in a dress of sleek silk darkness
I remember how come morning it lay on the bed
Like a naughty child that had just broken a vase.
Yellow is far to bright for such an occasion
Red is blood, a colour too close to my heart
I go with white, today it is sympathetic
It falls over me like a just spent lover
Loose, but loving.
Tomorrow may see a change,
maybe lilac or mauve
Harold would wait hours whilst I dressed
Patiently perusing the papers,
Humming or happily watching.
Yet will Death?
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4 comments:
The narrative of this works very well. To the reader it would seem as if it were written by a women, not just because that is the voice of the poem but because of the manner in which it flows and an almost stream of consciousness.
The metaphor and simile of the colours created a brooding though optimistic feel as there is an element of anticipation throughout.
Perfect image to suit the feminine words.
Thank you for your lovely comment, I'm replying super quickly because I've just posted lots of new things, would love to know what you think :)
Clare
x
The opening line reeled me in; loved the first three stanzas, for their imagery and progression. Been reading other poems here, as well. "On Googling Death" is one I'm sure to remember you for; it's got a strong impact (a sobering read, and the language -- elegant).
Thank you for sharing. Cheers.
New to this blog, I've read all three poems here. I'm impressed with the ventriloquy and much of the powerful imagery. But a poem needs to be literate and there are a couple of 'to's instead of 'too's here. In other respects, too, this seems like a draft.
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