Sunday 13 January 2013

Nothing to Wear



Nothing to wear



I’ve nothing to wear, she said with a frown,

It’s a definite no to that old satin gown.

I need a dress that creates a to-do,

Yes, something that causes a hullabaloo.



He sighs in despair at another great cost,

The argument he knows is already lost,

Next will be shoes and of course a new bag,

She won’t watch the cost of the price tag.



An idea has entered his befuddled brain,

He stifles a smirk that is hard to refrain.

‘My dear if you really want to stand out,

Go naked. You’re sure to be noticed, no doubt.’



The look that she gives him, he knows for sure,

Will cost him dearly, not just cash but much more.

So man, when your woman has nothing to wear,

Most certainly do not suggest she goes bare,

Your life will be torment, or be living hell,

The cost thrice as much, her anger to quell.



A lady needs to look her best, be the most admired,

So every woman in the place will know she’s inspired.

When you murmur sensually ‘you look stunning, Honey’.

Life will change to living heaven and be worth all that money.

©June Sciortino

Wednesday 2 January 2013

Summer Evening in Clonmel



Summer Evening in Clonmel



The faint haze of early evening

Lands upon the summer glory

Somewhere in the laurel bush

a blackbird tells his story



A Robin mounts the garden wall

Surveys the lawn so green

Flies down to search for tasty bits

Complains when none is seen



Grey squirrel searches for some nuts

On a branch of the chestnut tree

Glances furtively from side to side

But no nuts does he see



Red admiral lands on the Buddleia bush

But finds he’s not alone

Fifty butterflies are already there

It is a set down zone



Bumblebee zigzags round and round

To find a bit more nectar

He parks upon a blooming rose

He is the hives collector



The haze of the evening

Begins to fade and turns into twilight

All signs of life have faded away

Along with my aging eyesight


©June Sciortino 11/06/12


The Party begins at Nine



The Party begins at Nine

The party begins at nine tonight,
Don’t want to start off with a fight.
 She says ‘So please don’t make me late,
Be extra early for our date.’
At half past eight or there about,
He’s ready for a good night out.
‘Shall we go?  Are you ready my pet?’
He calls to let her know he’s set.
‘Oh no,’ says she,’ not even dressed,
I really need to look my best.’
She smiles and heads off to her room.
A long delay, he thinks with gloom.
At nine o clock she’s still not done.
‘Hurry dear, you’ll miss all the fun.’
‘I’m nearly there, so please don’t rush,
Patience dear,  please,  please hush,
Ten minutes, just a short time more.’
He groans and frowns, he knows the score.
Then looking like a dream in blue,
With not a single hair askew.
She enters proud and says, ‘let’s go
Our presence to the party show’
He utters mindless, ‘we’re cutting it fine
We were supposed be at the party by nine.’
She glances serenely at her mate
‘Don’t get yourself into a state.
An entrance is what we need to achieve.
To do it, be late, please don’t be naive.’

©June Sciortino 16/11/2011

Red Wino



Red Wino



Plunge into the red wine, not to smell the musty aroma, or
savour the acidic grape on tongue...

No — to drown in the tipple.

Mask wretchedness, conceal self-contempt, flee from sadistic notions of hatred, the strident clamour in a throbbing brain.

Slither down the slippery burgundy slope, deeper into a cavernous void, no light, no shadows, no angst — until the launch of another phobic day.

Seek out means to return to that safe abyss.  Beg, rob ... maybe kill, essential to be enveloped by oblivion.  No escape.

So — sink into the tipple, til’ it drowns out those voices, and drags you under to eternal peace.



©June Sciortino 17/11/12