Masked Surprise

This went waaaay off where I was going with it at the start. I fancied a romantic meeting at a masked ball. Fate took a hand. And well, she had other ideas.

Fate had planned their meeting,

How they laughed as they arrived,

Collected motley strangers,

Unsuspecting aught contrived.

Bedecked in costumed finery,

Masks upon their eyes,

Ambience electric

As all hid behind their lies,

Flattered to be asked there,

Dressed one and all as spies,

Agents, Mata Haris,

Sleuths renowned as wise,

Yet none detected counterfeit

In ticketed surprise,

Flirted, danced, now targets,

Fate held them compromised.

Twirling as they partied

They missed their own demise,

Revealed, at last, behind each mask,

Dead already in their lives.

Spied parties to eternity,

No one hears their cries,

Double lives no more concealed,

Fate held mask’d surprise.

I mean, wtf! I wanted romance, I got death. Bloody charming. I might give the romantic version another bash. What can I say? I like the idea of masked encounters.

Fate can bugger off.

If you fancy a bash at writing something based on masks, I’d be delighted if you link in comments so I can visit and read what fate does to your version. Or perhaps you have more control over her than I do. (Shh! Don’t tell her I said that. She’s soooo contrary.)

A Real State

Every time I closed my eyes I saw people, 

Strangers in my midst with tools in hand,

And every time I saw them I dismissed them,

They shrugged and left but returned when I turned round.

My husband couldn’t see them though I told him,

My children couldn’t see, they raised their brows,

I felt crazy with myself and with the whole crowd,

Who were these men and why were they here now.

I entered rooms and there they were dismantling

Everything they found and deemed demised,

I argued, shouted, waved my hands before them,

They shrugged again and, though gone, were still inside.

I hurried to the rooms that they were haunting,

Not spectres, no, but quite determined still

That all my protestations, all my anguish,

Could be ignored while on they went about their will.

My eyes were opened in their closed state, I knew this,

A dreamer’s state but wakened yet withal,

I’d wake for real, return and there they were still present,

A nightmare to a sleeper when sleep calls.

I had to write this down upon my waking,

Or did I write it while still in my dream

Or was the dream and all the fears and terrors

An illustration of my mind and world for real.

 

Synchronised

Their dance began,

as in a duel,

once spied across the floor,

magnets caught

in polar pull,

each one seeking more.

 

To phantoms,

all around became,

umbilic drew them forth,

no digressions,

no, nor names,

nor plight to mar this troth.

 

Pulsing beat,

orchestral drum,

two hearts now synchronised,

static waves,

so plucked to thrum,

unspoken words. No lies.

 

Elemental,

cleaving then

within a gaping throng,

gyrations,

mid ungodly men,

to throbbing heartfelt song.

 

Once begun,

the timeless tune

marred and marked their souls,

perfect rhythm

ends too soon,

returned to earthbound goals

 

Back to ports

for two adrift,

unity so cast,

interludes,

tho’ hearts may lift,

once played, fade into past.

 

Backward glance,

a shoulder’d chin,

eyes return to fore,

heaving breast,

a sighing grin,

so ends tango’d score.