Tread softly

Tread softly dear one.

An elaborate pantomime

Is prowling my mind.

 

Mandy Edwards (c) 2018

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The Monarch

The Monarch

One warm and sunny Christmas day,
A Monarch butterfly sailed away.
Her wings sun kissed, her colours bright,
She’d been transformed in the night.

For like the babe on Christmas morn,
The time was right to be reborn.
A bright new flame to light the way,
This warm and sunny Christmas Day.

Mandy Edwards. (c) 2017

 

A nonsense poem

Petrichor Pete ran down the street,
His univocal all of aquiver,
Desperate to see his sweetheart’s pugree,
But alas she wouldn’t deliver.

With a toss of her gossamer, she was away
As fast as her pastiche allowed,
Her seraglio loose like a susurrus goose,
As she sashayed her way through the crowd.

Pete used his frugal to shout like a bugle,
His dulcet fair dripping with sweat,
But soon it was lithe that his bombinate wife,
Had no interest in muzzling him yet.

So Petrichor Pete with wherewithal feet,
Nefariously wandered back home,
For lack of pugree, I think you’ll agree,
Means man must languor alone.

 

Mandy Edwards © 2017

A Villanelle

Cock a doodle doo.

I squeeze shut my eyes; put a pillow on my head,
It’s three in the morning and its dark outside,
Cock a doodle doo, the roosters said.

Three-thirty comes as I wriggle in bed,
The rain pelts down; all sleep is denied.
I squeeze shut my eyes; put a pillow on my head

There’s nothing to do, my book is read,
It’s four in the morning and hope has died,
Cock a doodle doo, the roosters said.

The cat is purring and its fur has shed,
My nose starts to tickle; the clock ticks, “Five,”
I squeeze shut my eyes; put a pillow on my head.

Five bloody thirty, all sleep has fled,
I’ve cursed all the pleasures of the country side,
Cock a doodle doo, the roosters said.

“It’s six.  Rise and shine,” the old man said,
He’s stone deaf and all bushy eyed.
I squeeze shut my eyes; put a pillow on my head,
Cock a doodle doo, the roosters said.

Mandy Edwards © 2017

Sea Goddess

Sea Goddess

Sand disappears in rivulets
Beneath her sun-drenched legs,
As she exhales, inhales, exhales;
Deep in meditation.

She digs her toes into the ocean floor
And slowly moves her hips. Circles
Rhythmically, as if orbiting the sun;
Dips into her purse with salty fingers.

An intake of breath. She moves again.
Her pulse quickening as the rising tide
Fingers her hidden crevices, hissing
And spitting like molten lava.

A final thrust of the hips, she dissolves
In a flurry of frothing surf.
A long shuddering breath. A satisfied sigh.
Her body sated. Her mind at rest.

Awakened to her aloneness,
She curls into the empty shell of herself,
And listens.
Listens to the ocean whispering her name.

Mandy Edwards (c) 2017

Artist: Valentina Cantor