Wednesday, April 20, 2005

OLD WOMAN

And Truth my friend is an ugly crone
at the crossroads, watching her sisters
paint their faces, make eyes at men
while she tends her warts and blisters,
uncaring, knowing that for every ten
that they snared she'd be lucky to get one

who'd take her home. Fair above all,
she doesn't blame her lot, nor birth:
this was the bargain she drew,
the price she paid for her worth.
Besides, fools weren't extinct she knew:
some starry-eyed ass would fall

for her, honour-proud or bent on suicide.
That lust was something she understood,
though slow to quench. Let them stay
the course to know how good
she was, that she was no common lay:
she'd be there when all the tarts had died.

***

This was written as a response to Dan's poem "Bazaar".

3 comments:

Pincushion said...

'Besides, fools weren't extinct she knew:
some starry-eyed ass would fall'

WE all live on hope don't we...!!

'she'd be there when all the tarts had died.'

Oh! the finality of conviction. The gritty depiction of pathos is at once harsh and full of hope like a coal being brutalised into a diamond! No fake glitter this, underneath all the grime of the 'Bazaar'..the world!

A great read as always!

Dan Husain said...

Ohhh...The Bazaar has always been a sordid mart for flesh too...Beautiful potrayal JJ!

SPECKLED_BAND said...

I used the flesh market metaphorically, Dan: Truth as an ugly woman not wanted by anybody. This is NOT about flesh trade!