'Oh no! You can't wear purple...'



 


This poem was written for a special friend and ladies of a certain age. 
I hope 2014 is a purple year for everyone.

'Oh No! You Can't Wear Purple'

“Oh no, you can’t wear purple!”
My friend screeched in the shop.
“It’s not your shade or colour,
and please put back that top!”
“But I like the shiny sequins and
all the sparkly bits.’
My friend just said it made me look like
 I had great big tits!
I sighed and looked at others
There were none I really liked.
It was for a birthday party
So around the shops I hiked.
She said…
‘Now here’s a lovely beige blouse
Or this frilly one in cream
And look at this silk in fuchsia.’
Now I’m really going to scream!
So how could I ditch her
She was my bestest friend.
But then I had an idea
(she was driving me round the bend)
‘Let’s go for a coffee
I really need a rest.’
‘OK’ she said quite quickly
‘It may be for the best.’
I went to get the coffees -
(no sugar for me please)
But then I went and ‘accidentally tripped’
I spilt the coffee over her knees!
‘Oh no!’ she shouted loudly
‘It’s all over my best dress!
Now I’ll have to drive back home
And leave you with this mess.’
‘Oh dear, please forgive me.
I’m sure it will wash out.’
‘Please don’t buy anything rashly.’
She warned (as if there were some doubt)
Could I possibly shop without her?
And should she really stay?
 And I said ‘No please, please go
Else we’ll be here all day!’
She went and I was so relieved
And with a little guilt
I went back to my favourite top
The purple one with matching belt all in gilt.
At my age I wear purple,
Who cares what people think?
It makes me feel quite Papal
And I may wear it with my ’mink’.
I saw my friend at the party
She said ‘ I love that top your wearing,
Isn’t it that fuchsia one I saw?
It does look good, it suits you
It slims you even more.’
‘It’s that purple top I told her
The one you didn’t like
And next time I go clothes shopping.
You can always take a hike!’
 

copyright Diana Leighton 2014

Sky Kite Dancer

Kite
Flitting, twitching, jumping.
Kite comes in
deep breath,
twitch,
Tug.
Lines 
o
l
i
n
e
s
Shout, shot…
lost in wind,
t
w
      i
s
 t
s, 
t
          w
                     i 
                r
                       l
                     s,
                                 
keeping 
tight
l
i
n
e
s
for
   sky 
       kite 
             dancer, dancing
                       in 
                          the
                       air.
Tug.






Copyright@Diana Leighton 23rd November 2013

Head Land

Hartland Point, North Devon.
Where the Bristol Channel meets the Atlantic.

I wrote this poem after reading about a young woman who had jumped off a cliff. I wondered what had been going through her mind and the mental state she must have been in as she contemplated jumping.


Head-land

On the headland listening
to the sea breathing.
Wrapped in warm smells of gorse
she watches waves sail in and out.
Mist cloaked white horses gallop ashore
crash into the headland and roar.
Gulls soar high, rising on thermals
calling out like laughing schoolgirls.
Her mind a keystone looming large,
a grinder, milling memories
to rust, blown away as fine dust.
Aeons of a ground down life
now trampled in the dirt and sand,
cut short by life’s knives.
Her mind a vacuum, the memories
replaced by whispered calls  of Neirids
urging softly  ‘go on, you can do it’.
Zephyrs dance, gently stroke her face,
blow soft scents of spice and mace.
Distant ancients of deep, dark earth
the Haliai sigh ‘this is what you wanted’.
Rising like Lazarus, arms wide,
her soul flowing to the universe.
The gulls still laughing call -
‘go on, you can do it’.
She falls, flies, cries,
the moon sighs.
Drifting free
she joins the sea that
breathes in and breathes out.



Copyright Diana Leighton 2013 
 This poem was selected as a winner in part of the Forward Poetry one week challenge and is to be published shortly.