The Wedding Group
He looks to the centre –eyes glazed.
She looks to the right – smile glazed.
Baby’s eyes are devil red, facing front
as are the eldest sons of He and She.
The foreground is a blur of children.
Tired eyes rubbed, a curtsy of
thirsty white chiffon,
and a stampede of five year olds.
Smile glazed...I like that!
ReplyDeleteReal hook of an opening here.Great stuff.
Nice to read you - I shall be back!
ReplyDeleteThe poem really captures the essence of the moment. Well done!
ReplyDeleteNothing quite like it, is there?
ReplyDeleteYes I can see and hear it all. Those kids in the front are so typical of .... kids!
ReplyDeleteI notice that you get paid to write criticism. If only I had known such a thing was possible at a younger age.
ReplyDeleteAs a man, I think I am a natural born critic. It is so much easier to be a critic than an artist I feel. How does one go about getting paid for criticising ? I see my myself more as a 'jack of all trades' in the critic department, rather than constraining myself to one area.
Criticising films, restaurants, people, taxi drivers, chavs, binge drinkers - I have plenty of ammo, so just let me know who it needs to be fired at...
Love you lots..
There's such a lot packed into this short poem. I love the 'glazed eyes' and the 'glazed smile' and 'the stampede of five year olds'.
ReplyDeleteOn the subject of criticism, I don't think it is the prerogative of men. I have great trouble anaethetising my own inner critical voice when i start to write a poen (or anything else for that matter).
Wonderful imagery! So few words speak so much.
ReplyDeletebrill - as always (yeah - I'm good on the insightful criticism, ain't I?)
ReplyDelete