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Prolouge: there is no prolouge



Persephone shifted her weight

in time to the point

she was making.

She never stood erect-

she was always making a point.


Even with a potato peeler

there was an air

of menace-

she would mix it 

in with the mash.


Her threats had the promise

of unwanted mail;

of brown envelopes

the sort that fall when

any-news-is-not-good-news arrive.


She would direct the traffic

of your bumper-to-bumper

thoughts: your arguments ushered

down 'men-at-work' streets

your beliefs along unadopted alleys.


Her laugh when accompanied

with that gentle shake of head

was more contagian than contageous.

She was fond of staring at you-


through open doorways.



Then backwards glancing

her laugh would fill 

that empty space

and with our meeting

eyes adore my approach.


Words and Image by Tommy Carroll

◄ Then 19


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Tommy Carroll

Wed 9th Jan 2019 11:46

Hi Po, Compliment indeed. ?

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Tommy Carroll

Wed 9th Jan 2019 11:44

Cheers Doug ta for the praise. Tommy :-)

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Douglas MacGowan

Sat 29th Dec 2018 03:49

A really beautiful poem that gives nice sensory details about a strong titular woman.

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