The Muse

The Muse

Iridescence, voluptuous, careen 3 words challenge

She lies on the chaise aware of his eyes

Voluptuous yet feeling conspicuous

Her nudity almost complete

A vague smile says she’s awaiting censure

He is watching yet probing gaze

Making her feel beautiful yet she knows

This painting will come to an end.

He concentrates trying to capture her eyes

They radiate iridescence blue, green, grey

And still he sees her beauty stills him

She’s unaware, self conscious, pinkened

His scrutiny almost clinical

As he feels he’s likely to careen towards her

Telling her she sparkles with beauty.

She is his muse. He wants her to stay.

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2019

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Avoiding the obvious

Avoiding the obvious

Indigence, bemoan, accountable 3 words challenge

Swagger and stomp wave your arms

Tell everyone you are in charge

I’ve got it all in hand my friends and

Bemoan the ones who call you out.

When asked what you will do to improve

The lives of those in need

You fall into the pose,martyr to your cause

Wail don’t hold me accountable

It’s hardly my fault if there’s money

For the rich that daddy earned

By being positively certain to keep

The custom of my forefathers to ensure

Indigence a thing for the poor.

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2019

#3wordspoetrychallenge #poetry #instapoetry #rhymingwords #nonrhymingwords #rhymingpoems #nonrhymingpoems #poetrychallenge

Door to before

I look out on the rich landscape

Hills rolling and glens changed

The map of times hands have moved

once more

My spine tingling in anticipation

Of what I do not know

See the remains of a home

long empty

The place where the door was shimmers

Light more prominent than anywhere

As I explore this living map

In a past I have chosen to return to

But filling me with a new sensation

Where futures merge with past.

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2019

#3words #Y’s Words.

The charm

Sat in the boat moonlight flickers

Hauling at the oars

My young years the reason I’m given

The work of the donkey

Seventeen is what I told them

No soul here knows me

shall keep it so till the sea leaves my blood.

We row till my arms are screaming in pain

Begging for rest and warmth

I need to do this for proof of a life

A secret to know when I’m old that I did

Something different even for a while

Lucky that I’m tall for thirteen

As we load our shipwreck spoils to sell

No bodies were there no man harmed

I shiver in relief and grin

Lad, you can go when we hit the downs

And don’t turn back will you?

Our secret is not yours to have yet you see?

I nod and give a gruff reply

Race away across the beach and up

Into the sands hood pulled up breath ragged

starting to slow now I know I did it

They didn’t even guess they had a bad luck charm

They took a girl to sea.

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry 2019

#Y’sWords. #poetryprompt #DavidBeaverArt

Temple of nature

The temple reflects light in the distance

It’s stillness enticing her

As she is called to the place she heals

Herself in chanted words

A simple susurration of leaves

That blow softly

Her temple is the woods

The trees ruby leaves ready

To turn the colour of the magical elixir

The russets and yellows richly shimmer

Before their autumn departure

Regeneration to begin again

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2019

Death is a mercy, sometimes.

I wrote this after watching a programme which was about a family but PTSD features heavily and this is what came out!

He was a speaker with animals

before the destruction

Feeding them, knowing their ways

Before the fodder was him.

Sent underground to set traps

For an unwitting enemy

A generals mind in foot soldiers body

The damning combination.

A world destroyed a mind fragmented

By bangs, shells, sounds, screams

Some are his own

When he wakes from the sleep

That he tries never to have

Nightmares worse than any day can conjure

He doesn’t speak of what happened

The words are not yet invented

Distractions, diversions, plans

All to keep his mind from being idle

So the torture stays away

He is there but not there

A spectre in his own life

This living breathing moving ghost

Who everyone knows

Yet nobody understands he’s locked in

Always in the terror of then

The time he cannot speak of

He is voiceless and it’s all there

Waiting to explode

At the back of his mind is a thought

Humming louder daily

Death is a mercy, sometimes.

Ailsa
©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2019

A wound too far

Hands gripping tightly so I see

Bone crunching bone

Nobody is talking about anything

Unless you’re the topic

And if they laugh it’s at you

You’re sure because it’s what they do.

She’s asks you quietly why they would

Eyes narrow in anger, suspicion

Turned on her because her words

Are what will always be known

Her opinions the most eminent

And she has something for all seasons

It matters not if it’s cutting, hurtful.

The girl turns away sighing

Another battle of wills to try and say

That the world doesn’t not turn

Around one woman or man

Every thought not about her

Still sure the whispers and smiles

The laughter is aimed at you.

From this distance I see the girl

Trying not to sigh or show anything

Which will be misconstrued or hurled

To her head at a later date

When you decide to deride her

Once more for not being the captive

Who is grateful for her tongues captivity

At some point she knows very soon

She will walk away not to return

Her binds have been broken

With your last savage words that tore

One wound too many.

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2019