July 13, 2014

Threadbare Harlot

Covered it in carpet, polished it with paint
leads right to the very door where naughty boys acquaint
Feet of different fittings, climbing up the stairs
And yet… He remains in bed Staring at the ceiling She cries softly on the couch Feeling broken, used Just a receptacle for his need While she remains empty She fingers her phone Thinking of the invitation there Very casual A shared cup of coffee Nothing more, and yet She reads the real invitation In the depth of his eyes When he looks at her She wipes her tears as she thinks of fidelity and promises… He walks into the living room Suddenly shy She tries to cover her body With her red see through lingerie Her black hair covering her mascara streaked eyes He kneels down in front of her Pushing away her hair His eyes searching hers And holding t - See more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems/best/prostitution#sthash.sUgRRSgj.dpuf
a fine day for hypocricy that is or isn't theirs

A steady flow of regulars, some more fresh of face
others terrified to even rid of her her lace
Descending down the carpet, guilt and shame and God forbid -
pray mum, the wife or clergyman won't find out what you did!

Neon lights they sizzle from the sign above her room
her nightly ritual smelling of cigars and French perfume
A quiet word of warning for the older gentlemen - 
to watch the threadbare carpet as they head back down again

A rowdy few, a roughland gang, can terrify and scare -
she'd scream out loudly for the cops, but they're already there!
Ridicule and nastiness, occasional bad blood -
sometimes the carpet caught their toes to land them with a thud!

A handsome little virgin, trying hard to keep his quest
spent the entire twenty minutes simply laying on her breast
Despite his intact youthful bits and less than manly dare
his feet would never touch a step for walking on pure air!

A copy of The Harlots House lay on her bedside table
Grace became her name and friend as far as it was able
Saw her through the game of mostly staring at the ceiling
a story that walked up the stairs and down with it's own meaning


Farewell soon to this, her means, with earnings vast and mighty
a little house all paid for, from this back street Aphrodite
Carpet colours, piles so thick and patterns to boot
a perfect fit throughout the house, for just her  little foot!


he looks up at the ceiling and wonders How life has changed him - See more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems/best/prostitution#sthash.sUgRRSgj.dpuhard to believe this carpet is just a decade old,  secrets to let free........havana on it's knee


rel said...

My oh my; such perfect pitch and tempo. And the story was dead on, he says with a wink and a nod.
Well done milady!

Helen said...

Well done, indeed! A wink, a nod and a smile.

Helena said...

Thank you guys - off to work - will pay my respects to you in the morning!

Jon said...

You've hit a home run with this one. A very vivid and apt description!

Mama Zen said...

This is delightful!

^.^ said...

I feel for her ... I love her ... in fact we should have a house warming party for her or something ... cuz she is gonna be alright ... smiles ... Love, cat.

Kutamun said...

And no one will ever be the wiser for her secret ...such an invaluable cog in the big machine of society !

kaykuala said...

Hilarious! Gives a perfect picture of the goings-on behind closed doors - for youngsters or older guys. They all have that naughty look going up and the guilty look on coming downstairs! Great write Helena!


Hey Monkey Butt said...

Nice!!!! And those sure are some worn out stairs. Love the post :)

Leovi said...

A beautiful creation, exquisite poem-story!

J Cosmo Newbery said...

Great! I love that spin on the prompt!

Eddie Bluelights said...

Great Take ~ Eddie

Clouds and Silvery Linings

Anonymous said...

A prossie - trust you....! lol

Optimistic Existentialist said...

I like this. Really wonderful take on the prompt as always. Stairways always hold the unforeseen...

Tess Kincaid said...

I enjoyed your bawdy take...