Poem - MAG Poetry Prize 2010
Bit Part in a Historical Re-enactment
by
Newcastle-upon-Tyne, UK
A rough brown shawl hung down her front
exposing
her breasts' edges
as she span course dough
cooked on hot rocks
(the ancestor of flatbread).
Our meagre home between
the uplands and the plains
would be the perfect place to settle
and enjoy a relative prosperity
(or so the narrator said).
I pretended to help propagate
the best of the berry bushes
before demonstrating
I was handy with a slingshot,
although unfortunately
I don't think she noticed me
as I retrieved those expertly
smoothed rocks
and headed off
towards the minibar
aboard the minibus.
Added: 30.04.2010
06.05.2010
A great snapshot of a moment of unrequited love/lust!
06.05.2010
Enjoyed this a lot
25.05.2010
This is a great subject, but the line breaks are sometimes inexplicable.Do breasts have edges?
26.05.2010
I enjoyed this poem, thank you.
31.05.2010
Liked this a lot. Compelling,original. Loved its sounds and rhythmns, and great sardonic humour of ending. Maybe change breasts "edges"?
06.06.2010
The inherent humour makes this poem very likeable.