Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Anita Alig Feb 2019
Light's like an unruly child

flouting the rules of darkness
always playing to win
discourteous to walls
cocky when surrounded
derisive when oppressed
impertinently breaking in
opportunistic when cracks show
fearless when choked
irreverent when fenced in
flippant when hidden
cheeky when scalded

a brazen brat!
Anita Alig Feb 2019
Papa
never
entered
uninvited
meandering
over
neat
obstacles
unles­s
lingering
tentatively
reminiscing
about
marriage
inconvenience
­courting
romance.
Others
seemingly
chasing
old
passions
infinitel­y
caught
sailing
in
lust
intimately
conflicting
over
value
or
lov­e
calm
and
nice
only
cascading /
only
never
intending
offence
singing
innocuous
songs.
Using the longest word in the English language for an acrostic poem. What would yours be???
Anita Alig Feb 2019
His hands, like his love,
were never maudlin,
her love never cloudy

Beneath crystal skies
aloft clear springs
hands cross

to mould house and home
in sunshine and
rain
Happy Valentine's Day
Anita Alig Feb 2019
With my soft pencil,
sharpened but round-tipped,
I traced the words of your letter
until they merged with the grooves on my skin.

I traced the words of your letter with colouring pencils
red, blue, yellow, black, white, brown, orange, pink
fattening the paper into a blooming meadow
spanning my traced horizon.

Watercolour brush in hand,
clear water spilt,
I traced the words of your letter
until I drowned in the aquarelle.
Anita Alig Feb 2019
Strange but true. This morning, I could hear my cat and dog fighting downstairs as cats and dogs do, only this time, the words were clear and loud / maybe I'm a pet whisperer.

Dog:  You don't give a **** anyone but yourself! Why did you have to gobble up my food?
Cat: Don't be such a ***** and stop whining! Finders keepers, losers weepers!
Dog: You're such a diva, you think you're a prima ballerina!
Cat: Shut up you try-hard! Fool!
Dog: At least, she can count on me.
Cat: Count on you? For what? To guard the house? Get real! You'd be bought off with a nice piece of steak like anyone else!
Dog: I'd never let her down, don't bluff, don't double-cross.
Cat: That's why you're an idiot! I don't jump through hoops without dead-certain gravy. I lounge around in a sunny warm spot and purr my way to grub.
Dog: That's for sure. The trouble is, you're useless!
Cat: Who gives a rat's ***? I'm no groveler or lick-***!
Dog: Yeah, you're a chancer. You pounce when it suits.
Cat: That's how I like it, life's dandy! Anyway, I think she admires that about me, wishes, she could be more like me, definitely not like you!
Dog: Maybe. But she'll always be more like me than you.
Cat: Sad but true!

I could hear the catflap open, the dog's paws on the hall floor. Got up, stayed in my PJs and spent the day sitting in the sun.
Are you a cat or a dog?
Anita Alig Feb 2019
Not another pie in the sky, he said over breakfast, busting my bubble, cutting my legs off. It won't work, he said, pointing at the job section in the newspaper. You've got to grow up, he said, dissing months of sweat and toil. True, this wasn't my first pie in the sky, but it was the meatiest by far, not weak and watery as he hazarded. Without it, I would have keeled over in the ditch many moons ago, it's sustenance plunk plain enough to dunk me in luminous lucidity, spilling itself all over the breakfast table.... like it or loathe it, I am my sweetest pie in the sky, my wildest dream. And my waters have just broken.
What is your pie in the sky????
Anita Alig Jan 2019
At dawn, I plummeted plumply into that mama pore on the tip of my nose. Just as I thought I had shrunk it, exterminated it, I was ****** up and made disappear. Mama pore has millions of babies strewn across my face. Busybabies they are, cooking up grime and sweat, and grubby oil, day and night - plastering it all over my face.

No army of cleanser, toner, scrubs, facials, masks can defeat my beastly pores, not even that overpriced, scientifically-proven-to-work, tried and tested elixir I spent a month's wages on - it seems. Back to bed, I go. I'm a threat to society, looking like that. Flicking through beauty pages, I see no mama pores. Pity you can't photoshop real-life skin. I would.

Dr Google is out of answers too, so what now? I know! Ice cream, a whole packet of cigarets and twenty cups of coffee for breakfast. The doorbell rings. I'm driving you to work today, have you forgotten? Betty shouts across the intercom. Buzz me in! Reluctantly, I do, open the door to an army of mama pores nestled on the wings of Betty's nose. On the way to work, we talk pores and how to get rid of them.
No longer in pursuit of perfection!
Next page