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Jenny Reynolds Poem
Moulin Rouge
The Moulin Rouge of minds is intertwined with mine,
And though my heart denies my soul aligns alive.
The opera always soaring, the show it must go on,
Yet little voices in my head shout push on, push on, push on.
Tossle feathers flash, skirts in black and gold and
Rumours flutter through the mills like warm air in the cold.
Manic faces and steely eyes, echo shrill my moral sighs,
Decisions rush and moments lapse, never will my mind relax.
Curtains fall like morning snow, church bells ring and we all will go.
The smile on my face is the only trace of the icing I stole from the Moulin Rouge cake.
Copyright © Jenny Reynolds | Year Posted 2012
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Details |
Jenny Reynolds Poem
Hotel Lobby
To be in a lobby is oh such a shame,
Lonely and troubled it’s all such a game,
Suits and stubble typing like pawns,
Fed to the lions before going cold.
Success in their minds with a stench of despair,
As they desperately struggle to sustain a soul.
Battered and worn with the internet scorned,
Corporate specials are oh such a bore.
Stiffly dressed, there’s nowhere to hide,
A pint at the bar is a stretched slide.
Universal wallpaper from the hotel land
surrounds every painting that’s oh so bland.
Laptop in hand they now must run,
Pretending to be busy is all part of the fun.
The starch duvet awaits and morning will come,
Lies must be told and dirty deals done.
The significant shudder of newspaper pages echo the sterile breakfast tables,
Days of ignominy will consistently need snippets of stories to spin the reels.
Copyright © Jenny Reynolds | Year Posted 2012
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