Favourite Poem

Here are six of my favourite poems from the Poetry Friday collection. Leave a note in the comments on which is your favourite, or maybe nominate your own. 

Voyeurism

Silky stockings stretch

over her fingers

then slide over sleek, shapely legs.

Her black dress tumbles and ripples,

then is soothed by hand.

She dabs perfume on her neck

as she slips into her heels,

and inspects herself in the

full-length mirror.

Her eyes are different from mine.

Mine approve, admire, adore.

Hers find fault, see lines,

admonish for

the pastry at breakfast,

the skipped gym class.

And curse her mother

for the hips she inherited.

She sits on her bed and lights a cigarette;

blowing out smoke from her ruby lips

Then she checks the time,

extinguishes the light and

goes out into the night.

All the time unaware

that this secret artist

was painting her soul.

Moustache Clinger

Grampy’s hot chocolate

is going cold

I watch his whiskers waver

in the whistle of his breath.

The skin on his drink

is grey and wrinkled

like the skin on his face.

I stir constantly,

to make sure the skin doesn’t form on mine.

And then drink from the spoon

because no one is watching.

With a snort, a snuffle, a sniff

Grampy is awake.

‘Oh hot chocolate,’ he declares

as if it’s a surprise.

He takes a mouthful

and smacks his lips.

The skin clings to his

moustache. 

Changes

She stares.

Her eyes drinking in

every detail of the familiar.

How the back has more hair now

than the head.

The belly is rounder

The legs look shorter.

His arm still bulge

with muscles and strong shoulders.

He doesn’t smile.

He used to.

Does she love him?

Or does she love a memory of him

which lurks in the shadows

of her mind?

Is she the cause of what she sees?

Or would it have happened

without her?

If she leaves, will he recover

that lost sense of joie de vivre?

And then, would she love him

again?

Slow realisations

Sometimes the penny

doesn’t drop,

because you

don’t want to let it go.

You don’t want to know

what’s scaring you,

staring you

in the face.

So you hold that penny

tightly,

digging fingernails into

your palm until it hurts.

But you still keep hold

of that precious

coin.

Apart

The week

became a month

became a year

you changed your hair

I change my postcode

suddenly

we were strangers

best friends

separated by

silence.

In between kisses

A shared bag of chips and

a couple of silk cut.

Blowing smoke rings

in between kisses.

Smiles in our eyes,

and smiles in our bellies.

Then with salt on our fingers

I walk you home.

Laughter in the air,

whispers on the doorstep

in between kisses;

Trying not to wake

your mum and dad.

One long lingering kiss.

then the landing lights comes on.

You turn the key,

I skip home.