Short Plaits Poems

Your old sleek black hair-pin is still with me, mother,
I've treasured it greater than a yellow sapphire;
It collects in me, memories of plaits and knot,
And the roses I'd graced with dedication lot...

1 July 2021...

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Hair like corkscrews,
crazy curly and short,
pulled into two plaits,
begging to be let free.

With her eyes wandering about, 
she sprouts a smile on my face,
as she boards the bus,
her bag like a tortoise shell 
on her back.

A new girl has come to school,
a new friend; a new enemy;
possibilities are endless......

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The rain walks along the street,
He kisses the pavement.
Windowes of houses in his tears,
The umbrellas of people shine with his drops.
Yellow birches bend their heads,
They throw gold along ground,
And leaves -- the small ships float along the rain pools.
Autumn sits in a forest near the river
and plaits a wreath of multi-coloured leaves....

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She stared long
       At pink ribbons
        The perfect match
         Of pink dress
           I wore then
            Someone my age
             In tattered clothes
              Outside the temple
                I unloaded plaits
             And handed her
          My pink ribbons
       My parents smiled
     Seeing my act
    I had known
  I was right

30/03/2019...

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Her innocence in daisy plaits ,displayed
Such naievty was so soon betrayed,
Touching romance' nettle brought much pain
When discarded,by his disdain,
Tears welled upon her pillow,
Forsaken love long wears the willow-
A broken heart,no words could save,
Death's red poppy,petals her grave.

Inspired by Ophelia by John Everett Millais


http://www.tate.org.uk/servlet/ViewWork?workid=9506...

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In the desert 




Like a barren flute
punched and airless,
Amidst sand dunes 
and dusky plaits,
Where no roses bloom
only cacti prick,
Lonesome, desolate,
as emotions daunt,
Tears dried up 
I writhe in ache.

Yearning for..
A melody,
A rain,
A smile,
A little red rose...
that he might bring,
an utmost utopia.




Written May 12, 2017
For "Lost love" contest by John Hamilton...

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I used to miss your touch, now your hands feel like claws

I used to melt in your stare, now your eyes come with bristles

I used to miss your shag and plaits, now you wear a tail of a horse

I used to miss a natural shape, now your curves are created by a dose

I used to miss your call of my name, now you sound like Americanos and Angles

Tell me if I’m stuck in history, lagging behind as the Homo Sapien evolves...

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Round heels of crumpets,
aromatic lavender jam.
Poached eggs in a skillet,
succulent portions of ham.
An awakening stretch had heralded
a yawn mouthed long and loud.
While rain fell down in splatters
from the dark pewter clouds. 

Dated Macintosh slicker,
hoary exhausted gum boots.
Tenacious steps into nature
in search of family and roots.
The fallacies of the wind
twists hair into long plaits.
Across wide fields of enchantment
new journeys await....

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Proud golden field of daffodils, clustered at my knees
You woke to springtime sunshine, and revel the breeze
You flaunt your cheerful ruffles, and spread your springtime chuckles
But soon your season passes by, with smiles that cannot last
With green, tall swords, still standing proud, to show your place of rest
I’ll braid them into plaits of rust
And feel a sense of loss

                ~

For Francine's Contest: Daffodils or *****willows
By Carrie Richards 2/27/12...

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