50’s dream girl,
poodle skirt, suspenders.
Thrown, stockinged feet pass face,
shoes a memory left long
in the thrill of his hold, she’s gone
soft in his arms, necklace almost lost,
skirt whispers over silken skin,
heart, body and soul, swish.
This is the thrill, this, is the thrill, of it all.
If he’d just look in her eye
as she hangs on and on and on.

AH March 2011.

Edit – inspired by this picture by Chris Steele-Perkins, shown in a Guardian story

to be included in my forthcoming collection a staff of asklepios (if/when it is published)

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Tony says:

    Thanks Simon, your appreciation is appreciated as ever. There was a photo (not mine) that inspired the poem, I posted a link to it on Survivors when I posted the poem in this form and the longer form, in case you’re ever interested. Adding these photos and that poem wasn’t a conscious choice or link really, just reflective of where I was the other day I suppose. I was intrigued to see I seem to stop at the same point on that beach to take them when walking there, also unintentional.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Simon Jenner says:

    Really fresh now, and cut down from my memory of the poem. I enjoy too the atmospheric – very, blue grey weather sinking the pressure – of the photos that accompany as a bass note does. Not a photo of the poem, which is a different affair, but a sense of the haze of memory, desire, and nostalgia. The poems holds hope in it with the fragility of grace, and thre photos qualify tis with distance, enchantment, and the melancholy of time. Simon Jenner

    Liked by 1 person

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