Cast Aside
Sat where it’s sat since chauffeured in gently
No driver now for the rusty old Bentley
Its tyres and battery equally flat
A rusted up den for an old ally cat
Manicured lawns, bindweed infested
No gardener now as hardship suggested
No tourist, no fan, nobody interested
Intruder detection no longer tested
Inside, a rocking chair, no longer plush
Creaks like the bones of the wizened old lush
Who stares at the walls of the now peeling flock
And pays little heed to the un-ticking clock
Newspaper clippings lay where they fell
Sometimes she grins at the stories they tell
But just as though they were still pinned to the wall
She picks up not one, she remembers them all
They’d urged her to dance, they’d begged her to sing
But all of a sudden the phone wouldn't ring
Now cataracts sully the stars In her eyes
And stubbornness stifles her arthritic cries
The phone once rang often, to her recollection
But now she just listens to check the connection
No point in a phone when you're no longer known
And the sound of alone... is a dialling tone
Dancing for Hollywood bought her the world
But one willing bint and her stardom unfurled
A word of advice for which she will vouch
You’re born but you die on a man’s casting couch
And as she sits there in her old rocking chair
With her makeup undone and her unkempt hair
Now she succumbs to Hollywood’s ills
As she rocks back and forth with some gin and some pills.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
