15 Minutes

The show started out on a high note,
Till they called forth the entertainers,
They criticized her performance,
And said that her ‘life’ was in danger.

And though she tried hard to smile,
And struggled to keep it together,
A shaky song portrayed a girl,
Of which her nerves had got the better.

So she faced a judging panel,
Imposing figures who all did frown,
As they told her just how badly,
Her last performance had let them down.

Then they thrust a mike in her face,
Assuring no one could accuse her,
An off key version sang through tears,
So they’d not think her a sore loser.

And so thwarted at all attempts,
And hopes of being rich and famous,
She returns to a simple life,
Of making ends meet as a waitress.

Noticing the furtive elbows,
Under the tables, the discreet kicks,
Of those who recognize the girl,
Who was defeated by Taylor Hicks.

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The Belle of The Ball

I went out last night to party,
I really lived it up,
The ultimate belle of the ball,
I just can’t say enough.

My remarks wise, my advice sage,
My retorts fun, sassy,
I was coy, cool and flirtatious,
Yet I kept it classy.

I cut the rug on the dance floor,
So graceful and fluent,
As if Michael Jackson himself,
Guided every movement.

And when the time came to go home,
They begged me for my keys,
They were silly to have worried,
For I made it home with ease!

But now I have an aching head,
Can’t find my car at all,
And I’m wondering why my friends,
Will not return my calls.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/the-unreliable-narrator/

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Betty Grable Under The Stars

She told me she was out today,
Running around with the girls,
Soda shops, sock hops, bobby socks,
Styled hair in rag tied-curls.

She said she spent the afternoon,
Over at the record store,
Listening to music for hours,
Buying all she could afford.

Last night she went to a drive-in,
With a dozen kids or more,
Betty Grable under the stars,
Piled into Daddy’s Ford.

She asked if I’d seen Mary Lou,
And she was quite implicit,
That the girl had promised her,
She’d be there for a visit.

Then she spoke of her dear husband,
“He’ll come by today, you know,
I’ll just sit down and wait for him,
Over here by the window,”

We sit there and I take her hand,
As a nurse peeks in to say,
“Ms. Silverman did we forget,
To take our meds today?”

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/the-unreliable-narrator/

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The Unforgiven

I tried to forgive them,imgres-3
But couldn’t quite do it,
When recalling the matter,
And what led to it.

The illogical logic,
That brought it to an end,
Made me question wanting,
Their friendship again.

And grudges and notions,
I thought juvenile,
Never quite allowed me,
To reconcile.

Making awkward moments,
As we pass on the stairs,
So haunted are the hallways,
Of the house we share.

There’s another bond broken,
And I guess it’s just tough,
I tried to forgive them,
But not hard enough.

Passing The Torch

She picks among discarded frocks,
Old clothes found in the dress-up box,
And laughs at what may well provide,
Makings of a princess or bride.

Boas, sequins, a joyous game,
Of what hangs off her tiny frame,
As you look on quite bemused,
She clomps around in high heeled shoes.

You think of how it is so sweet,
Barely they stay on her feet,
‘Til that day that she walks in,
And so innocently grins.

Seeing that she has created,
An outfit so coordinated,
And incredulous you’re staring,
At attire you would not mind wearing.

Sexy, subtle, innovative,
Simple yet sophisticated,
Envy the look she put together,
And rue the day she wore it better.

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The S**t Eating Grin

Whenever I come home from work,
After a hard day’s done,
My husband’s the barometer,
For what is going on.

But if depressed or lamenting,
Over some random thing,
Nothing could be worse than the curse,
Of the shit eating grin.

Which is exactly what he wears,
When I come home today,
I fear as he blocks the bedroom door,
And stands in my way.

My mind thinks of the options,
My ears are blowing smoke,
As I consider a dreadful mess,
A valuable that he broke.

Do the children lie there bleeding?
Are there dog hairs on the sheets?
Is there a porn in the VCR,
That’s playing on repeat?

But time wears on and by some,
strange prompt he moves away,
I open the door to gaze upon,
What his nervousness betrayed.

But nothing could prepare me,
For what waits for me instead,
As I see the open window,
And the unmade bed.

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Depravity Ever After

Cinderella and Charming once adoring,
Now their love is old and boring,
And I fear they may be looking around,
For more inventive ways of getting down.

The princess was caught in a bar,
With Captain Hook’s hook down her bra,
And again we caught the slutty vixen,
Getting freaky with Rumplestiltskin.

But what got Cinderella in to this mess,
Let’s blame not the poor princess,
It seems that she was none the wiser,
When Charming turned out a womanizer.

Into strange fetishes unknown,
Involving calluses and hammer toes,
When she found her once beloved mister,
In their bedchambers with her stepsisters.

And though Rumplestiltskin and Drizella,
Indeed make for strange bedfellas,
Years of predictable perfection,
May qualify these predilections.

And neither party could deny it,
But said,”Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it!”

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The Haunting of Edith Goldstein

Here lays Edith Goldstein,
Devoted mother and wife,
May she ever rest in peace,
After such a lovely life.

But after funeral bells tolled,
And coffin doors locked shut,
Despite wishes of peacefulness,
Edith was anything but.

For when the clock struck midnight,
Until the eerie dawn,
They heard Edith moaning,
From the great beyond.

Her cries rose to banshee wails,
Chains rattled, cold winds tore,
Even through warm and sunny days,
Till they could take no more.

So they called in a medium,
To make some sort of guess,
Of what Edith had to say,
And put her soul to rest.

Ouija boards were consulted,
And seances were made,
All in attempt to find what Edith,
Asked from beyond the grave.

But forever doomed to march the earth,
She would never rest in peace,
For worry her oven was left on,
Or if her son was brushing his teeth.

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