Legging It

I’m not pregnant

I’ll never be again (just so’s you know)

Then why’s my belly so distended

(Like I’m three months gone

And my secret’s starting, now, to show)

 

It could be constipation

But I don’t think that’s it

If you’re at your dinner, please excuse,

For the first thing that I did, on returning home from work,

Was to take my kindle for a sit

 

It might be all the Revels that I ate last night

Why, oh why, I did, I do not know

Except perhaps for comfort

(That all chocolate brings)

We women ( and some men) know this is so

 

It could be from the BLT that I ate for lunch

Sitting in my gut and festering

Wondering why I did

(When I did not enjoy)

Exponential indigestion and thinking

 

It could be from the second glass of wine consumed

Unused, this while back, to tasting grape

Gurgling in my gut, with too little food,

Objecting, as tums do

And going ape

 

I’m thinking that it could be from the seven weans

Who’ve stretched my belly out of sync

And, as soon as I relax,

It all goes to pot

No wonder mums and dads need stronger drink

 

I’m tempted to suggest that I’ve been too lax

In yoga exercises and the rest

Delaying till tomorrow (what needs done today)

Of all excuses,

This one sounds the best

 

My tablet’s resting on a little mound

(It’s handy and I think I’m doing well)

Slurping on the red stuff

(With too little food)

Relaxing while my tummy grows and swells

 

Maybe I am windy, (hadn’t thought of that)

It’s never on my mind (swear on my heart)

Maybe if I squeeze

(And groan a little bit)

I’ll get a flatter tummy and new start

 

I’m not troubled by the swelling

(Well, maybe just a bit)

It’s awkward, as hell, in too-tight jeans

Bugger all the effort, (I paused to hunt them out)

I understand why people wear leggings

 

The comfort that they bring (never mind the bulge)

Explodes the myth of uncool (all that guff)

It’s either that or jammies

(And it’s way too early)

And too many folk here to go in the buff

 

I’m tranquil in my leggings with my pregnant pause

(Revels are waiting in the drawer)

The working week is over

(Thank god for it)

Why would any working woman want more

 

Yoga on the morrow

(With my fingers crossed)

(It’s not my fault, she cancelled every class)

Not worried ’bout the belly (I can cope with that)

But don’t get me started on my arse!

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Of Familiarity

in familiarity

strange excitement

contentment’s palate

plunders pull of new

divergence in fermented

maturation, mere motley,

longevity’s taste

experience tests true

In Poplin

250px-Warp_and_weft

(source)

satin smooth for sheets to slide on

silk for lingerie

delicates that catch attention

housed in chiffonier

chiffon wraps, georgette gowns,

lustring won’t wear well,

lame, lace or organza

weave their own brief spell

comfort cotton wefted through

warp of stronger skin

little women, heavy-dutied,

worked with worth in poplin

 

The Hollow

Let us go unto the hollow

where the well of deepest drink was dug before,

To sacred shaded hollow, carved from landscapes

told in tales from long ago of ever more.

Trust we in the hollow

whence abide relinquished dreams, past buried fates,

Restive shelter within hollow where,

with purpose, we will serve among frail wraiths,

Ghosts that haunt the hollow

seeking chances lost in pasts of empty tales

To drink again of dreams and fates,

sip nacre, dipped from hollowest of shells.

There in hollow shadows

we shall find the well again,

Unresisting, drown all sorrows

from the hollow of our pain.

Sanctifying Sorceress

She’ll kiss away all contours,

frowns that mar the landscape,

life criss-crosses

from the crossroads formed,

this visage,

evening tones,

enhance as twilight,

banish petrified

with wave of hand passed over,

deliver, she is heard

amid the rushes,

sighing breath

temperate to risen blood,

quell beats

anon to death,

a sister, wife, a mother,

full-bosomed pillow cloud,

inducing coma, deep,

sanctifying sorceress,

breath of life,

banish wakefulness,

to sleep.

Surcease

Wonder,

in the shadow of the moonlight,

calls you near me,

child bereft of toy and worldly joy,

hearkening to music in the starlight,

cherubic voices promising, as a chorus,

a sweeter love,

all moments to enjoy

an earthbound pleasure,

in the joy of angels,

a muted fear,

trumpet blast to ease,

seclusion,

in the bosom of all music,

oblivion, in harmony,

surcease.

May Music Day 1- Music Filled My Ears

Twindaddy at Stuphblog issued a challenge. From the first of May and for twenty-five days to select a piece of music arising from twenty-five questions posed by him.

1st – a song from your childhood – this one made me quite sad. And happy.

Music filled my ears,

from sweetest voice

I ever heard; my mum.

Songs of love, beautifully surrendered

to family chores

with hugs and tunes by turn.

 

In simple grace

her words flowed

like a fountain,

sparkling life into the hearts of all

who heard an angel echo every morning,

 called to us to rise, the day begun.

 

No one heard her voice

without succumbing

to the heart of one who raised all spirits high,

by grace and goodness woven into music

we listened and we learned

from ballads’ sigh.

 

My father smiled whenever mum was singing,

some chosen for their love,

given free,

others for all children

and god’s pleasure.

And one tune, especially, sung for me.

 

It followed me through life

when, as requested, I learned

to voice god’s talents handed on,

when dad would ask for my rendition

of the one

all family members called, ‘my song’.

 

I hear it still from time to time in passing,

I sing along and

memories flood my mind,

of childhood days and melodies imbibed then

from two, whose love

 knew how to warm and bind.

 

They’re gone now, from this world of lovers,

reunited

after many years apart.

I hear them still in music I hold dearest,

still, after all this time,

they fill my heart.

A Good Time

Now would be a good time

To embrace and hold

In tenderness,

Comfort and love.

Now would be a good time

To recognise that compassion,

Empathy

And truth will guide the way.

Now would be a good time

To speak from within,

To share yourself,

To open to the world.

Now would be a good time

To risk and dare

In the name of love and light.

In blinding truth.

Now would be a better time

Than later

Or never.

Not at all.

Now would be the perfect time

To clasp hands,

Hold tightly

And leap into light.

Now is the only time.