Sunday, January 16, 2011

Vignette of a Writer




1:34 a.m.

He leaves half a sandwich on the plate
Instead he mixes a fresh Crown and ginger
with a slice of lime
While his cigarette burns lazily in the ashtray

***

1:45 a.m.

He is tired
But sleep eludes him
He rubs his tired eyes with yellowed fingers
He needs inspiration.

He holds the glass, swirling the gold liquid
The ice cubes knocking and plinking
His finger circles the edge of the glass
He takes delight in this small pleasure

He draws in on his cigarette
Breathing the smoke deeply
He exhales dramatically
The blue smoke rushing to the ceiling

Ahhh…..the senses are awakened.

***

1:50 a.m.

He sits in front of his computer
Contemplating his next words
He types
“Argh. Grub mud you deroo raw jeen ack rah!”
He leans back into his chair
Hands clasped behind his head
He smiles
This….makes perfect sense.



CREDIT TO THE QUOTE - VAN ARIE - "THE ACCIDENT"  http://vanarie.blogspot.com/

© Sherry Irvine – January 14, 2011

Friday, January 14, 2011

Thursday Think Tank; Random deviations; In by devilounet


When the picture presented itself
I was a little shocked
Why is this chick In the bathtub?
This is a load of crock.

At first I thought this was porno
But then I saw her clothes
Was this some sort of fetish?
Only You-Know-Who knows.

I could make up Any Story
About this chick In the tub
Her sittIng there cross legged
With hope the tub is scrubbed

ANY STORY #1

“Welcome to my bathroom
Come sit Inside my tub
I’ll take a funny picture”
Says the weird guy with the chubb

OR – ANY STORY #2

My bathtub is my sanctuary
I come here to relax
I like the feel of the porcelIn
AgaInst my achIng back

HOW ABOUT…ANY STORY #3

Sometimes I light the candles
To meditate In peace
It’s quiet In the bathtub
While I contemplate my feet

*****

Goodbye Little Miss Chicky
SittIng Cross legged In the tub
I don’t know what your story is
Have a nice day my love.
© Sherry Irvine – January 14, 2011
THURSDAY THINK TANK:  CREDIT:  In by devilounet

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Interview with a Butterfly


I flutter about, from one to another
Then I see you from afar
I am attracted to your vibrant colour.
I hover for a brief moment
Then rest upon your newly opened bud.
I let the sun warm my weary wings
As I drink the sweet nectar of your expression

The pollen from another is sticky on my feet
I need to infuse you with these seeds
So you will reproduce and feed me once more
I wish I could be faithful to you only
But you know I have to kiss another to live.

So to remember me, my love
I leave a special gift for you
Underneath your tender green leaf
A gift endearing from my heart
I offer you a silken purse
Filled with faces just like mine.

© Sherry Irvine – January 11, 2011

Monday, January 10, 2011

Black Velvet



I am sitting on the edge
Somewhere where I shouldn’t be
It is foolish of me I know
But I do it anyway

The wake of another
Forces me to fall.
Initially it is cold
It’s grasp is sure and forceful
It wants me.
Pulling me into depths unknown to me

I try to reach the top
But I can’t seem to reach far enough
It’s cool velvety arms embrace me
It’s blackness takes my breath away

I hear the muffled cries of children
This is certainly not my intention
But there is nothing I can do now
Only know that I did my best

I know I will not be forgotten
My daughter will keep me alive
Her words will comfort the others
As I ascend toward the light
That I now call my home.

The Story of Christina

My name is Christina.  This is my story.
I was born in China along with a million others, just like me.
Some of us were selected to go over seas – to the Americas.
We were the special ones. 
We made our way across the sea.
Most days were calm.
Some days were so rocky that I thought the ship would come apart.
The water constantly pounded against the ship.
The ship creaked and popped like crazy.
The quarters where we were staying were dark and cramped.
We were situated at the bottom of the ship.
We were cargo amongst the animals.
We had to stick together to survive.
We did not see the daylight. 


We arrive to the Americas and are removed from the boat.
We are handled quite brutally. 
Our bodies are so stiff from the long journey.
We are not sure what is happening.
Where are we going?  What will we be doing?
We wonder about our fate and why we were brought here.
Then we are sold.
Sold like slaves.  We will work long hard hours for no pay.
A few of us are taken and placed in the back of a van.
There are maybe six or seven of us.  I can’t tell exactly.
I can’t see.  It is dark again.
Someone’s foot is in my eye.
The van has no windows in the back.


At last I am taken to my office with the big window.
I travelled a thousand miles to get here.
It is glorious.
I am given nice clothes to wear and a fancy purse to carry.
I am young.  I am beautiful.
My perfectly painted skin is smooth and glowing.
I wear false lashes to enhance my eyes.
I have a nice body with perfect breasts and a small waist.
My hips are exactly proportionate.  I am tall.  My tummy is flat.
My job is to sell with my body.

I work hard for my employer.  Selling and selling.
I stand for very long periods of time.
Sometimes it feels like eternity.
I cannot move for fear it will shatter the illusion of who I am.
If I do not work hard, they will get rid of me
If I do not look beautiful, they will get rid of me
So I stand for very long periods of time.

I learn alot about life while I’m working
My job gives me plenty of time to observe everything
I stand and watch the people from my office with the big window.
Sometimes there is a parade.
People are dressed in colourful costumes
Prancing and waving.  It is delicious.
The music is loud.
The sound of drums beat into my heart
But mostly I watch the everyday people.
People are interesting.

One day a young couple was looking at me.
They were looking and staring at me.
They looked at me for quite some time.
I felt their eyes boring into my soul from the outside in.
They examine me from head to toe.  Talking.  Laughing.
Then they turned and kissed each other on the mouth.
The kiss is long, slow and lingering
The sensation of this made me tremble a little inside.
I have never been kissed before. 
I do not know the feeling of warm flesh upon my lips.

Another time I saw two men arguing. 
I felt the vibration of their argument through the window.
It touched me.  Frightened me.

Sometimes I would see homeless people with tattered coffee cups
Their old worn out blankets wrapped around thin shoulders
They held out their cups asking for spare change.
Some people would toss a quarter or two but most walked by.
I felt sad and I wanted to cry but the tears would not come.

I am working in my office with the big window
Wearing the beautiful clothes
Carrying the beautiful bags
I had am there for a long time.
My life is good.

One day I am removed from the window and stripped.
Abrubtly.  Roughly.
They dropped me as they savagely remove my clothes
I hit the floor hard.
They stood over me for a moment.
I was broken.
It was awkward and painful.
My skin had cracked
Fingernails broken
My toes chipped.
I was broken and devastated.
This moment changed my life forever.

I was moved to another office.
One without a window.
There were others here, just like me.
We were all broken.
We would look at each other.
We could not speak through our pain.
We were cold.  Naked.  Exposed.
We were in the land of Unwanted.
A long period of time went by.

Our employer came for us.
We thought that we were saved.
The thought of this gave us hope.
But our elation was short-lived.
We were sold again.
I was taken.  Alone.
I was thrown into the backseat of a car.
I stared at the puffy ceiling and counted the tiny holes.

I am taken to an office with a big window.
But I would not be working there.
I was no longer beautiful.
My skin was cracked.
My fingernails broken.
My eyelashes missing.
They put me in the back office.
They dress me in unfashionable clothing.
I carry a purse that smells of old cigarettes.
I stand for long periods of time.

To pass the time I observe the people.
An old woman was standing near me.
She was disheveled.
Her dyed orange hair was greasy and not brushed.
She had not showered for days.
She took my purse and put it under her coat.
Later I saw that she was escorted from the store
She was told never to return.
My purse was returned to me.
I wasn’t there very long at this place.

I was taken from my spot at the back
And transferred to a big warehouse.
There were others here, just like me.
We were all broken.
I look at the sea of broken body parts.
Torsos missing their heads
Arms and legs pointing in every direction
Naked breasts exposed
I was thrown into the pile of others, just like me.
Used and rendered useless.
We were nothing but trash.
Our working life cycle completed.
I travelled a thousand miles to get here?

I live in the landfill.
I will live for ten thousand years
Before the earth will claim me as hers.
I will be here longer than the flesh of 10 billion people.
I will survive
With my cracked skin
My broken fingernails and my chipped toes
I will survive.

This.....is my life as a mannequin.

© Sherry Irvine – January 6, 2010



Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Dialogue between Lovers





















Henry:  Where art thou my love?

Genevieve:  *sigh* Alas, I am but a gray shadow of my former self

Henry:  Your beauty, my heart, you have taken hold of

Genevieve:  Your love has brought me riches greater than wealth

Henry:  I beg to touch your soft brown tresses, to hold you close

Genevieve:  Fear not my love, we shall never be apart

Henry:  To be with you forever, my heart desires the most

Genevieve:  But we are imprisoned in this glass house…like window art.

Henry:  No matter…..I will stand on one leg forever to bequeath myself to thee

Genevieve:  I accept thee my beloved, as long as you stand beside me.


Sunday, January 2, 2011

Takes 2 To Tango


I hold your hand
You hold mine
Together we dance
In perfect time

Our feet they move
Across the dance floor
The rhythm is rich
Together forever more

Sherry Irvine - January 14, 2010

CREDITS:  Painting by Cheryl Poulin, Ottawa, Ontario - http://www.earmark-decorative-painting-studio.com/mixed-media.html