Showing posts with label imperfection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label imperfection. Show all posts

Thursday, 6 March 2008

To all the girls I've loved before

It's no use pulling that hair, dear girl,

it will never curl,

the way you want it, though it's been processed.

Me? Never that problem, I was born with

luxuriant curls. They flow down like honey

glistening as they catch the sun's eye.

No amount of blusher is going to bring out

those cheeks, dear girl.

You are about as flat as flowers,

pressed closely between 2 heaving

books. You'll only look like a dowdy clown,

the one we laugh at when she frowns - though I guess

it takes skills to choose the right blusher tone

to match your troubled skin's glow.

Petal P. Rose (giggling)

Monday, 13 August 2007

My "usual" Sunday posting(s)


Unmasked












Thankless, I toil
on this foreign soil
I call my home
I feel entombed

Drenched under the hot sun
I am one in a million
not so rare
fast forgotten

I am faceless
I feed the blank stares
of a nation that is taught graciousness


Unpretty

chipped, hot fuchsia
nonchalant imperfection
reflection of a failing?
or one who is flailing?

glazed eyes do not see
shielded by sunny daze
the dark comfort
my darkglasses bring


Petal P. Rose