I lie back

and feel the grass come through my clothes –

my shoulder blades and backside damp,

a rub of earth in my hair, combed down over the hill,

woven with the chummy white heads, bending near my ear,



I pick one and twist it around in-between my thumb and forefinger.

A little yellow comes undone.  I feel bad, despite his docile dance

and run my fingers over the tips of his crown;

he will have his say.


I pluck up the courage - I will or will not

sit here all day in the sun,

I will or will not choose to meet you later

by the statue,

I will or will not let you take my clothes,

peel me one by one


not really listen to anything I say.


I will cry. I will pretend that I don't want to cry.

I will not get drunk. I will not get too drunk.

I will feel high. I will be low.

I will not cause a scene. I will not remember it.


I will stop.


I will think you love me.

I will know you don’t.


I will let things go.

I will not.


I toss the bud and remaining petals over my head –

not quite ready to make him my murderer.



◄ Amorphous

The Witch's Brew ►


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Rachel Bond

Wed 7th Dec 2011 10:41

think this lovely dear, the daisy petal game ; he loves me he loves me not, he loves me and forgets me not he doesnt love he is dead for every spindle of the dandelion head.

'he will have his say'

'I will or will not let you take my clothes,
peel me one by one'

very clever x

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Tue 6th Dec 2011 19:10

I really like this - the ending startled me a bit, but then nothing is ever predictable with you!

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Ann Foxglove

Tue 6th Dec 2011 18:26

What a lovely poem - and different too - tho I invariably like your stuff Marianne - as you know. Can identify with the scenario! x

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Laura Taylor

Tue 6th Dec 2011 16:05

Enjoyed this Marianne, liked the twist on the love me love me not thing :)

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