She hungered for the

Chiselled features of

The marksman

Whose aim was true

His music hall smile

His demeanour aloof

The one who

Picked his lovers from an

Identity parade

Rigid digit stab and

A click of the finger


Selection with a sigh

An idle yet

Effortless approach

Suited him at the time

Probably still does


She knew she was

His passable


Random choice that night

It didn’t bother her at the time

Life was too short back then


Of her?

Her life was but a lemon

All zest and bitter to the taste

A fruit served best within a fusion

Spread liberally

Compliments its opposites

Much better than it tastes alone

Citrus always needs attention


Beautiful to the eye though

Like the silver bracelets she wore

Upon an otherwise uncovered body

She the Gothic queen of Victoriana

Offered more than just a

Glimpse of bare ankle

On the night I dare say she has

Long since forgotten

Maybe not?


Would the marksman die for her?


Not a hope in hell yet I

The one she called

‘Second hand goods’

‘An almost rough diamond’

I would

Of course I would



31 thoughts on “HER LIFE WAS BUT A LEMON

    1. When baking lemon drizzle cake I have often popped along to the greengrocers with one of Shirley’s bra’s for that very reason, namely a sufficiency of said lemons – especially on the days when she hides the shopping bags.

      1. I think they make remarkable poems. I wish I had that many cool things in my head that would make good poetry. But that’s rarely the case. I still think you need to publish yours as a book.

  1. WOW! I am used to getting a chuckle from your pieces but this one was far from funny. Powerful lines in this one. One that echos is Beautiful to the eye though like the silver bracelets she wore. My, oh, my was this a good one.

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