Back at you… determined not to be a martyr Lily took the law into her own hands….

I want to serve it back

With a wooden cricket bat

Just one great big thwack

 

Sends you reeling in the rain

I Paddle in your blood stain

“That’ll learn you” I feel no disdain

 

Bat in hand and now it is done

You are forever silenced and gone

Only vile memories of you linger on.

 

There is no post murder remorse

You broke me and ridiculed my flaws

No grief just justice in this final vengeful divorce.

 

Alison Jean Hankinson

This was an accidental poem and I suspect Lily is a distant relative of Fairground Fay. However as I searched for a suitable image of Lily….I came across the beautiful Lillian Gish. She was movie star in the silent movie era, and although she never married, she did have several love affairs, one notorious one with a director called D W Griffith. There were some who declared the relationship to be “an ongoing psychodrama” but I have no real knowledge of this matter. Anyway I feel that Lillian Gish is the perfect image for my accidental revenge poem. Both images courtesy of wikimedia.

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Fairground Fay

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Fay was away with the fairies

Loves lost dream and high as a coconut shy

She made devil may care seem tame

She made revelling and carousing her game

By daytime she was clean and bright as a button

But lamplight changed her demeanour

like a chameleon she was more of a wanton

One sultry summer night

She got into a fairground fight

And the Police had to pull her out of a fountain.

 

Alison Jean Hankinson

I think I used this one for humour. We were often referred to as POM’s when we were in the Antipodes. Prisoner of her majesty, as many of the early settlers, were actually from the convict ships sent from England. So even though Fay looked very respectful I wanted to share her darker side…

This is for d’Verse poetics. Our theme was mugshots.

 

 

What am I?

 

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I am the face of hope,

In the fast fading light.

 

I am the distant dream

Driving forwards, when the day draws to a close,

The Star-bright shining in a suburban sultry night.

 

I am the laughter and the tears, the fear and guilt and pain,

Felt by all the mothers before me, the broken and the humbled, the joyous and loving,

I am the seed, the seedling, the roots, trunk and branches.

I bear the fruit. I am the womb of time.

 

I am me, fifty and finally come of age, woman.

 

Alison Jean Hankinson

 

It is open link night #190 at d’Verse and so we are encouraged to submit anything we choose, this was part of something I wrote a while back, and I guess it is what I need to believe at the moment. Returning and coming home has been nothing short of gruelling, nothing has been simple at all. It has been a little like hurling yourself from a small cliff into a ferocious and stormy ocean. I have to know deep down that it will come right and that the storm will pass. To do this I have to peel back the layers and remind myself of what I believe I am and then slowly start to pick myself up again.

The image is Ellen and the tree- the second version…and my children are very much a symbol of what I am.