Friday 15 July 2016

Held Tight

She was held tight,
held tight to the sheet
held tight to the bed
held tight to the floor
held tight in the house
held tight in the country
held tight in a world that
let her be held tight in
such a photo, this
expression of herself, this
sense of a freedom she
held tight to and
wouldn’t let go.



(I began this poem on the 14th.July 2016 as an erotic poem, left it unfinished then woke to the news of the events in Nice which inspired everything after line 5: in my own way, I think of it still as an erotic poem because the erotic impulse is even more important in the face of the barbaric and censorious)

(Image used by kind permission of Holden-and-Camille.com to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)

Friday 8 July 2016

Bumps and Splendours


The heavy boardroom table thrums,
your icon flashing within the
cup of my palm, urgent.

A glance assures all around are
comatose as the CEO drones,
oblivious to your nudity.

Thrum: “Bored darling? Me too.
Thinking of Room Service and
what he would find.”

Thrum: “There’s a fateful knocking.
Am I too bare to dare to
answer such a summons?”

Thrum: “And I have no money!
With what can I tip him for
champagne with no cash?”

Thrum: “Seriously vexed! He was like
80 and wretched and kept his
eyes on the carpet!”

Thrum: Photo of a humdrum
hotel carpet “Seriously, do I have to
go down to the hotel bar….

Thrum: “…and thrust my
tits at some lonely out-of-town
salesman to get some…

Thrum: “…attention, or are you going to
get up here pronto and remind me
how you love my….

Thrum: “…lumps and bumps and
splendours?”


 
(Image used by kind permission of Holden-and-Camille.com to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)