Poetry Wot i Promised.
Why am I always late with these?
...That was rhetorical by the way. My hangover tomorrow morning will not be. Urgh. I am not looking forward to that.
In conciliation for the lateness of this, have a Colin Morgan hug. :) He is pretty.
Day 23. Act Two - Part 3
The Wild Party by Joseph Moncure March
3
The candles sputtered: their flames were gay;
And the shadows leapt back out of the way.
The party began to get going.
The laughter rang shriller:
The talk boomed louder:
the women's faces showed flushed through powder;
And the men's faces were glowing.
The room was hung with streamers of smoke.
It billowed; curled;
Swung; swirled:
Poured towards the candle flames
And broke.
Eyes flashed,
Glistened:
Everyone talked:
Few listened.
Crash!
A glass smashed;
And a woman swore,
Shrank back
Abashed.
On the bed sat a girl,
Alone.
White: aloof:
Like stone.
Her mouth was a crimson velvet petal,
Her hair was beaten from gun-metal.
Her eyes were deeply set
In shadows of violet.
And she sat with never a motion,
Like a nun wrapped in devotion.
Hungrily Madelaine True eyed her:
Slowly she crossed:
Sank down beside her:
Softly she let a hand sink
On this girl's hand.
The girl did not shrink:
She did not speak:
She did not stir.
She sat staring at a shadow blur
That hung like a web on the opposite wall.
Gently Madelaine's fingers slid
Upwards along her slender, small
Ivory arm.
The lace that hid
The girl's bosom, rose and quivered:
Her petal lips parted:
She shivered.
Slowly she drew her arm away:
She rose, and went towards the glass-filled tray.
Kate hailed Burrs like a long-lost brother,
And she left Black's side
To be a red-hot Mother.
Queenie saw her going:
She stopped the Vic,
And put on a record so blue it was sick.
She moved forward swiftly:
She stood before Black:
"Will you dance with me-
Until Kate comes back?"
And ever so shyly smile.
He blushed like a ten-year-old child,
And nodded, completely beguiled.
So dance they did,
And dance they could:
Queenie was a marvel,
And the boy was good.
Their step was dreamy,
and slow,
And sweeping:
And their rhythm was enough
to set you weeping.
They stood up straight,
and slim and tall-
None of your sexy stuff at all:
Queenie was clever:
You should have seen them:
She danced as though there
were a sword between them.
But the music swerved.
It sank into deep
Soft murmers, as though falling asleep.
Like a dream, the melody began to float
From a saxophone's low-pitched, husky throat:
And the rhythm whispered with the fierce unrest
Of a heart throbbing in a passionate breat.
Then Queenie stirred;
Ans the stir went through him;
And he shifted his arm,
And crushed her to him.
The shock of her softness
stoppedhis breath.
Lights blurred:
The floor swam underneath.
And Queenie did more than her share:
She brushed his lips with her hair:
She arched inward:
She clung:
she pressed
Her body on his
from knee to breat.
It was wonderfully timed.
About two steps more,
They'd have lost their balance
And fallen on the floor.
As it was the music quavered:
Stopped.
They disengaged slowly:
Their arms dropped.
And she fed him a blurred
bewildered glance.
She smiled: she whispered:
"Our first dance!"
"Let's get our drinks, and sit somewhere."
"Why, yes: if you think Kate wouldn't care-
I don't want the child to pull my hair!"
Queenie took cushions from the double bed.
"Do you mind if we sit on the floor?" she said.
So they found a corner
Half-hidden by a chair,
And they dropped the cushions,
And they sat down there.
thought Black:
"This is obvious bait:
She want to be kissed.
Why wait?"
His arm went around her:
he whispered her name.
But Queenie was playing a different game.
She registered child-like dismay:
"No!- Please!" she gasped:
"Go away!"
She pushed him off: averted her head.
"I thought you'd be different,"
She said.
His arm dropped like a shot.
He choked
And his ears turned hot.
And he'd thought this woman a prostitute!
What a cad he was!
What a rotten brute!
He stammered:
"I'm awfully sorry!" he said:
"Just awfully-
Really!
I- lost my head.
Please forgive me?"
She lifted wet eyes.
She gave out the faintest of sighs.
then bravely she winked the tears away:
Bravely she nodded:
She tried to be gay.
She smiled, wistful;
She pursed her lips,
And blew him a kiss from her finger tips.
His soul was torn.
It bled.
He wished to God he were dead!
Gloomily he inspected his feet.
"You're the sort I've always wanted to meet,"
He said:
"And now it's spoiled.
You probably think I'm just hard-boiled:
A rotter:
A rounder:
A horrible sort of bounder!"
Queenie viewed him with large eyes,
Incredulous:
My God- what a prize!
"Well," he said: "I guess I'm through.
I'll go now, if you want me to."
Queenie shook her head.
She said:
"No-
Don't go.
You're really very nice, you know.
Please be my friend-
I need one so!"
His eyes lit with the pleasure
Of a man discovering treasure.
"There's nothing I'd rather be!"
He told her
Fervently.
Up rose his drink:
Up rose her drink.
The glasses met with a faint clink.
Glass met lip.
Each took a sip
To Friendship.
Meanwhile, on the double bed,
Eyes closed in bliss,
Burrs and Kate lay locked
In a five-minute kiss.
Of course -
It meant nothing to either one:
They were simply snatching a bit of fun.
They stirred:
They unlocked:
They came up for air.
Their eyes blurred:
The room rocked:
They peered here and there.
Suddenly Kate had a moving thought:
"Where's that cock-eyed bastard I brought?"
Her eyes found the corner,
And there they stopped.
Her head shot forward,
And her jaw dropped.
"Well!
May Jesus give me grace!
He's mushin' it up with your angel-face!"
"Yeah?" said Burrs.
he turned to look
His eyes narrowed, and his hands shook.
"Yeah?" he said: "So they tell us!"
Kate winked slyly:
"You're jealous!"
"Jealous?"
he gave her a glittering stare:
"You're crazy!
What the hell do I care!"
...That was rhetorical by the way. My hangover tomorrow morning will not be. Urgh. I am not looking forward to that.
In conciliation for the lateness of this, have a Colin Morgan hug. :) He is pretty.
Day 23. Act Two - Part 3
The Wild Party by Joseph Moncure March
3
The candles sputtered: their flames were gay;
And the shadows leapt back out of the way.
The party began to get going.
The laughter rang shriller:
The talk boomed louder:
the women's faces showed flushed through powder;
And the men's faces were glowing.
The room was hung with streamers of smoke.
It billowed; curled;
Swung; swirled:
Poured towards the candle flames
And broke.
Eyes flashed,
Glistened:
Everyone talked:
Few listened.
Crash!
A glass smashed;
And a woman swore,
Shrank back
Abashed.
On the bed sat a girl,
Alone.
White: aloof:
Like stone.
Her mouth was a crimson velvet petal,
Her hair was beaten from gun-metal.
Her eyes were deeply set
In shadows of violet.
And she sat with never a motion,
Like a nun wrapped in devotion.
Hungrily Madelaine True eyed her:
Slowly she crossed:
Sank down beside her:
Softly she let a hand sink
On this girl's hand.
The girl did not shrink:
She did not speak:
She did not stir.
She sat staring at a shadow blur
That hung like a web on the opposite wall.
Gently Madelaine's fingers slid
Upwards along her slender, small
Ivory arm.
The lace that hid
The girl's bosom, rose and quivered:
Her petal lips parted:
She shivered.
Slowly she drew her arm away:
She rose, and went towards the glass-filled tray.
Kate hailed Burrs like a long-lost brother,
And she left Black's side
To be a red-hot Mother.
Queenie saw her going:
She stopped the Vic,
And put on a record so blue it was sick.
She moved forward swiftly:
She stood before Black:
"Will you dance with me-
Until Kate comes back?"
And ever so shyly smile.
He blushed like a ten-year-old child,
And nodded, completely beguiled.
So dance they did,
And dance they could:
Queenie was a marvel,
And the boy was good.
Their step was dreamy,
and slow,
And sweeping:
And their rhythm was enough
to set you weeping.
They stood up straight,
and slim and tall-
None of your sexy stuff at all:
Queenie was clever:
You should have seen them:
She danced as though there
were a sword between them.
But the music swerved.
It sank into deep
Soft murmers, as though falling asleep.
Like a dream, the melody began to float
From a saxophone's low-pitched, husky throat:
And the rhythm whispered with the fierce unrest
Of a heart throbbing in a passionate breat.
Then Queenie stirred;
Ans the stir went through him;
And he shifted his arm,
And crushed her to him.
The shock of her softness
stoppedhis breath.
Lights blurred:
The floor swam underneath.
And Queenie did more than her share:
She brushed his lips with her hair:
She arched inward:
She clung:
she pressed
Her body on his
from knee to breat.
It was wonderfully timed.
About two steps more,
They'd have lost their balance
And fallen on the floor.
As it was the music quavered:
Stopped.
They disengaged slowly:
Their arms dropped.
And she fed him a blurred
bewildered glance.
She smiled: she whispered:
"Our first dance!"
"Let's get our drinks, and sit somewhere."
"Why, yes: if you think Kate wouldn't care-
I don't want the child to pull my hair!"
Queenie took cushions from the double bed.
"Do you mind if we sit on the floor?" she said.
So they found a corner
Half-hidden by a chair,
And they dropped the cushions,
And they sat down there.
thought Black:
"This is obvious bait:
She want to be kissed.
Why wait?"
His arm went around her:
he whispered her name.
But Queenie was playing a different game.
She registered child-like dismay:
"No!- Please!" she gasped:
"Go away!"
She pushed him off: averted her head.
"I thought you'd be different,"
She said.
His arm dropped like a shot.
He choked
And his ears turned hot.
And he'd thought this woman a prostitute!
What a cad he was!
What a rotten brute!
He stammered:
"I'm awfully sorry!" he said:
"Just awfully-
Really!
I- lost my head.
Please forgive me?"
She lifted wet eyes.
She gave out the faintest of sighs.
then bravely she winked the tears away:
Bravely she nodded:
She tried to be gay.
She smiled, wistful;
She pursed her lips,
And blew him a kiss from her finger tips.
His soul was torn.
It bled.
He wished to God he were dead!
Gloomily he inspected his feet.
"You're the sort I've always wanted to meet,"
He said:
"And now it's spoiled.
You probably think I'm just hard-boiled:
A rotter:
A rounder:
A horrible sort of bounder!"
Queenie viewed him with large eyes,
Incredulous:
My God- what a prize!
"Well," he said: "I guess I'm through.
I'll go now, if you want me to."
Queenie shook her head.
She said:
"No-
Don't go.
You're really very nice, you know.
Please be my friend-
I need one so!"
His eyes lit with the pleasure
Of a man discovering treasure.
"There's nothing I'd rather be!"
He told her
Fervently.
Up rose his drink:
Up rose her drink.
The glasses met with a faint clink.
Glass met lip.
Each took a sip
To Friendship.
Meanwhile, on the double bed,
Eyes closed in bliss,
Burrs and Kate lay locked
In a five-minute kiss.
Of course -
It meant nothing to either one:
They were simply snatching a bit of fun.
They stirred:
They unlocked:
They came up for air.
Their eyes blurred:
The room rocked:
They peered here and there.
Suddenly Kate had a moving thought:
"Where's that cock-eyed bastard I brought?"
Her eyes found the corner,
And there they stopped.
Her head shot forward,
And her jaw dropped.
"Well!
May Jesus give me grace!
He's mushin' it up with your angel-face!"
"Yeah?" said Burrs.
he turned to look
His eyes narrowed, and his hands shook.
"Yeah?" he said: "So they tell us!"
Kate winked slyly:
"You're jealous!"
"Jealous?"
he gave her a glittering stare:
"You're crazy!
What the hell do I care!"