Meltdown

Melting woman by ~anyaroseberries

Traditional Art / Paintings / People©2011 ~anyaroseberries
 Meltdown

            She slid softly
                      down the sofa
                           like warm toffee off an apple

            We watched as she
                    slowly
                      melted,
                         and
                             drip
                                by
                                  drip
           became a stressed mess on the floor.
we were used to it.
                        it was all done for attention.

            When she  went into
                        total
                              melt
                                 down,
          and could not scrape herself off the carpet.
           
            We phoned the sweet factory,
                who discreetly came,
                        scooped her up,
                            wrapped her in foil,
                                  and took her  away
                                              in the factory van.

            They say shes clinging to a grapevine now.
                  Being supported
                        by the tender tendrils
                                                of
                                        cheap vin rouge 

copyright Diana Leighton May 2011

Ghost Word




Ghost Word
And as imagination bodies forth the forms of things unknown, the poet's pen turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothings a local habitation and a name.
- William Shakespeare from A Midsummer Night's Dream

I see you every night when I am writing.
 At 10pm
     you stand
        under the sodium light,
           opposite my window.
               I cannot know you as
                  you are diabolical, dark
                    and mysterious.
I see you look at my face
        in the window.
          I am deaf and
              your mouth moves,
                  but I cannot see what you say.
                      A fedora hides your mouth.
                           The Trench coat
                                  hides your soul.
A puff of smoke from your cigar
           twirls up like
               a wraith, and
                  it's scent enfolds me.
                      It says you are Lucifer.
                            You are in my brain, my imagination.
                                  You are my obsession.
  But, I  have no fear  as
       I  know you are an error,
           a misrepresentation.
             You are a ghost word.
                You don't exist.
                                     
Diana Leighton May 2011

1   Ghost Word  -  is a non-existent word entered into the second edition of Webster's New International Dictionary by mistake.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dord