4 poems feature for Lisa Mary Armstrong

Frankly My Dear (previously published in Aurora Journal)

I’m a heroine waiting in the wings
for a Great Gatsby of a man
Heart teetering on the edge
Wuthering Heights

My life a sad old black and white movie
Rickety, running off the tracks
but I always dream in splendid technicolour

In my dreams
even the rain sings
bouncing melodiously off the ground
as we dance in time

We are Bonnie and Clyde tonight
snatching one last kiss
When the curtain twitches
I know it’s time to leave

Intermission …

I resume my role
the heroine tied to the rail-road tracks
hearing the warning chug of the steam engine
Panic rising!
Clark Gable is nowhere to be seen
Gone with the Wind

Now I must live out
that tired old trope,
the damsel in distress

Flaming Hearts

I never could tell if you were
The man of my dreams
Or the man in my dreams
But I’d pictured us
Two celestial planets
Orbiting each other’s
World before the fall

We had a quiet love
An easy alliance
In the bedroom was another matter
We’d wait until the dusk had fallen
Then combust in each other’s arms
Our skin tempered by our flaming hearts
This is how I really want to love you
I’d whisper

Lovers Graveyard

My heart is a graveyard
filled with those loves
I’ve buried
A landfill of lovers
long passed

Sometimes I’ll pause for a moment
and reminisce
the what ifs
Give thanks for
the lucky escapes
and mourn
the quietly unrequited

The one that still wanders
my heart
Day and night
Night and day
Sometimes I wish he’d leave
Sometimes I beg him to stay

And so, I lay a gilded wreath
At his feet
and a wild thorny rose
for the next lover
and the next

The False Messiah

The contractual agreement
Stated that you must love
Him in blind faith
And so, from that moment
You worshiped him dutifully
He was your God
And you his faithful servant

When night fell
And all your body craved was sleep
You were the selfless
Seductress shimmying into
The bedroom
Draping yourself across the marital bed
An offering to your Man God

After your children arrived
The hours and days shrunk
Cook clean rinse repeat
No mean feat but his
Wants and needs still
Came first and yours last

When you finally realised
He was no God
A false messiah
You confronted him
But he only shrugged and said

You put me on this pedestal I never claimed to be divine
The more I take the more you give
Dear wife of mine

Bio: Bio: A writer/poet/mother living in Scotland. A big fan of Greek Mythology and feminist reimaginings, old Hollywood Actresses/films, the theatre, ballet and music. I’ve always written creatively for the catharsis and only started tinkering with poetry in the pandemic. My inspiration comes from poets such as Mary Oliver, Carol Ann Duffy, Emily Dickinson, Sappho, Anne Stevenson, Sylvia Plath, Dorothy Molloy, Derek Mahon, Dylan Thomas – the list is endless. To read more about Lisa go to her website at https://lisaarmstrong2179.wixsite.com/website

feature photo by Davide Ragusa

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

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