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She’s courting Disaster – slicked down hair, reptilian smile, morals twisted like the coils of a rattler. She treasures her trinkets and calls herself ‘Loved’ by virtue of their sheer volume, dreaming of white lace and cooing progeny while he plunders her dignity, moonlight carnivore thirsty for flesh. She dates Denial, but she’s courting Disaster…
She’s courting Disaster – slicked
down hair, reptilian smile,
morals twisted like the coils
of a rattler. She treasures
her trinkets and calls herself
‘Loved’ by virtue of their sheer
volume, dreaming of white lace
and cooing progeny while
he plunders her dignity,
moonlight carnivore thirsty
for flesh. She dates Denial,
but she’s courting Disaster…
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I like it a lot, Melody. It seems you may have left out a line (I’ve done that before, myself), but it could be that I’m simply misreading your eloquence:
She treasures
her trinkets and calls herself
_______________________(?)
Loved by virtue of their sheer
She is actually calling herself ‘Loved’ – so I’ll add some italics to show that more clearly. Thanks so much – I appreciate the heads up!
I love this poem. But I always marvel at how you get all the words from one little flower. I guess it takes a lot of imagination.
Thanks Stephen! I have a lot of fun, seeing what each image will ‘say’ to me. Sometimes they don’t say anything, and sit in the archives until they do. Sometimes, they say something even before I snap the picture! (Maybe I speak ‘Flower-ese’?) 🙂
What a snake in the grass! How shall we teach her to preserve her inner rosiness?
I think we show her what a true gentleman looks like. Ah, if only more Daddies would rise to that calling, and heartbreak-proof their little girls by being the gentleman they need to wait for!
If only! Did you realise that we celebrated Father’s Day here yesterday, 1st September?
No, I didn’t! What an interesting coincidence…
Apparently there are not many countries that celebrate Father’s Day on the first Sunday in September. Not sure why we chose that day.
Maybe all the dates are arbitrary, really…
As long as the fathers aren’t that way, all will be well 🙂
HA! You’ve got it right, there….
Great, and I loved the ending.
Thank you so much!
Oh I hate this–NOT the poem, the horrible truth of the experience. You told it so much more prettily than it is–“poet’s balm”, eh?
PS–the Blush Rose is SO gorgeous.
Isn’t it? Thank you!
The rose just spoke to me of innocence and the temporary nature of that bloom – and life and imagination easily filled in the rest…Poet’s balm? I like!
What a great poem Melody. Thank you for sharing it with us
Thanks Alastair!
it’s almost like you make music with your words … Did they know that when they when they named you Melody 🙂
You amaze me!
🙂 You are so sweet. I have always loved my name – as for music, I was writing songs before I knew I was a poet, so I definitely have a lyrical background. I am so gratified that side of me shows here, too. Thank you Heidi for your continued support and encouragement!
I love this poem
Great poem
Thank you!
clever collaboration between imagined virtue and mere appearances !
Ooh, I like that! Thanks, Deb!
Oh, she’s far too daring, I hope she’ll come to her senses.
ME, too! 🙂
Sometimes looks can be deceiving…
And sometimes we deceive ourselves in what we are actually seeing, choosing to be blind to get a driving need met in the short-term…. Thanks, Rosy!
Hey, I know her. Good thing that names are changed to protect the guilty…
😉 Do tell…
Meanwhile, Melody Muses... 
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