What do you see when you look my way?
You see a sweet lady who’s a modern cliche.
She walks with apparent confidence and sway,
long locks hinting at a faint tint of grey.
Her face reveals traces of a prettier day,
and her curvy body shows no obvious decay
– one whose sell-by date may be a mile or two away.
You think I may savor the game you wish to play.
Well, get this mate, a lady’s what I ain’t,
I’m a woman with a history, so you’d better show restraint.
If I told you my story, it would put you in a faint.
But that is my business, I don’t wish to aquaint
you with the finer details of each tiny taint.
I’ve finished with my sinnin’, though I’ll never be a Saint.
If you wish to woo me, I must insist upon restraint.
I have a bow, some arrows, and a tin of war paint.
Stop sitting in my kitchen, drinking endless cups of tea,
describing all the things that you pretend to be.
Can’t you see it’s hard to tolerate your tiresome company?
You’re wasting your time with your fake empathy.
Don’t touch this body; get your hand off my knee.
You have to understand that I need to be free.
You simply don’t appeal, and here’s my final decree:
You can’t win my passion and you can’t have me.
This is an update of a poem I wrote some time back.I was going to submit it to a concrete poetry contest, and, with this in mind, I spent hours shaping it into an image, only to find that my image editing tool no longer had a particular feature which would have enabled me to make the wording clearer. Unless I start again, I won’t be entering it after all, but it’s kinda pretty, so I’m posting it here – having edited it slightly, yet again.
©Jane Paterson Basil