SOFT PAWN

soft pawn

Swapped her cheap crucifix for a soupçon of stardust

Now both saint and sinner don’t know who to trust

Yet under a raw red light a price is agreed

By he who is wanting and she who’s in need

Her address you can find by charting the stars

Reading ragged postcards, asking in bars

Perpetual the loser, always second best

She thinks as a lost sheep unaware that she’s blessed

The city cries for outcasts as day turns to night

Street lamps to the punter, moths to the light

Grabbing their chances, riding their luck

Some end up in gutters, some make a fast buck

Some offer salvation, they make cups of sweet tea

Brass bands and war cries they suspect is the key

The helpless gifted mercy, yet no rich reward

There’s no place in Eden, if you’re just one of the horde

A new day’s sun rises, fresh shadows are born

Sleepy ladies of the night now suffer the scorn

Of those of the first blush who prefer not to smell

The cheap scent that lingers beyond heartbreak hotel

The knights and the bishops, the queens and the kings

All looking for soft pawn, cannon fodder, playthings

Those knights and those bishops, those queens and those kings

Will hand over the coinage providing there’s no strings

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56 thoughts on “SOFT PAWN

      1. The English language does I think have old words specific to the female that are indeed splendid. Sometimes ‘gosh’ should be followed by ‘golly’…proper girl English and I love it. Have an equally splendid evening.

      2. Oh indeed…gosh golly is one of my absolute favourites. Simply delightful. I shall continue to be terribly English. You too, Mike.

    1. My thanks Leslie…and for the ‘share’. By the way my wife is in Madeira with girly chums presently. She left me instructions as to how to use the washing machine…elaborate instructions yet not including where I should pour the blue liquid stuff in the little draw one has to pull out. What a kerfuffle I have had!

      1. No problem. Albeit a secret dear Shirley must never know (I’ve already told Marissa) I was whinging about my plight in the café when a splendid lady overheard and took pity, and she’s even now doing the ironing no less! For just a few quid she will also vacuum the day before my dear wife returns. What a result! More so when one considers that just yesterday after the (eventually) successful washing being completed I did what Shirl said and (on the basis the weather was set fair) hung said washing on the washing line outside (took an age to find the clothes pegs); went to the café and the heavens opened…there’s me with no plan B as I don’t know how the dryer works! All will now be well…just so you don’t think me a Trump I must add that I do all the food shopping and cooking whereas Shirl does the DIY and the things I will never understand!

      2. I laughed out loud and read this to Studly. He is hopeless at all the domestic chores, but is a much better cook than I. But he’s a mechanical whiz–keeps all the vehicles running and services our motorcycles.

      3. Good for Studly…’one of me own’ as Londoners might say! Sadly I cannot even open the bonnet of a car. After the terrorist attack on the London Tube 11/7 I (me then with very long hair which is likely why they stopped me) was pulled over by security at the port as we were heading off to France for a few weeks. The officers (armed in England, such a rarity) asked me to open the bonnet of the car. I had to give them my keys, the instruction manual from the glove compartment and suggest they do it themselves as had no clue as to how to open a bonnet. In the wake of this they asked me if I wanted to know how to open the bonnet. I could but reply, ‘No, what is the point when I have no interest in engine things and don’t even understand why a car needs petrol to function’…a strange day that was.

      4. Oh mercy! My grandfather owned a service station, back in the days when an attendant would rush out, fill your car with gas, wash your windshield, and check the oil all while whistling a merry tune. I grew up knowing how to do all that. I think that was part of the reason dear Studly fell in love with me!

      5. I’ve told my husband that as those of us in the baby boomer generation age there’ll be a need for full service stations again. It might be a good investment. If I had any money. Or ambition.

    1. Upon the two sides soon to be at war that sit on the board prepared for said battle and upon the polar opposite monochrome landscape whereon they sit. Fascinating concept you have come up with there…I may not sleep a wink thinking about this!

    1. Another old revamped one…you do realize I am on the cusp of insanity presently…I really don’t know how you do it with this book writing. I remain on a roll yet with Shirl away I am in character for far too long each day…wouldn’t mind save for the fact he is clinically insane!

  1. Love the title and how you developed it, Mike, and shall look out for the chess piece, so to speak.
    As to washing macines and having laundry needs serviced by a handy lady, I call that entrepreneurial, on both your parts. Shirley will surely only shake her head and smile after a fine time away. ‘Madeira looks nice.’ Wasn’t that a line from an ad years ago?
    Shouldn’t laugh at your cop and bonnet experience, as I’m dense in that department too, but I did. Out loud. I’d love to have seen their faces! 🙂

    1. My thanks that you read the piece…in my defence all I can say is that I do genuinely do all the food shopping and cooking…it is just the rest I cannot cope with. I really must not tell her of the assistance I’ve been getting with the chores though…for just this once it would make my day if upon her return she is impressed at the state of the place. Then again my songwriting son who occupies the top of the house will, if true to form ‘grass’ on me!

      1. You can always trust the weans to land you in it. You might get five minutes of glory before you’re rumbled. And a have a gorgeous meal ready to change the subject! 🙂

  2. Would it be okay if I start calling your William, as in William Butler Yeats? I’m not an expert on poetry or English literature, but the imagery you evoke reminds me of some of his work. This was equally beautiful.

    1. Cheers…if I claim Yeats I think I’m getting somewhat above my station. Trying to write a proper book, fiction that is at the moment…on a roll yet bloody hard work. I don’t know how you did it with your book. The way I see it, concept, storyline, penning draft etc. are time consuming and subject to daily mood swings in the author…method acting the key players in ones head and redrafting the words to an acceptable final product fucking hard work…as I said I don’t know how you succeeded in that regard…you must have the patience of Job! All I can say is ‘well done’ on that front!

    1. Gosh, Titiana. Is that you’re photo. I would have found it on Google. I shall hang my head in shame that I failed to credit you. Seriously, my sincere, overwhelming apologies.

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