elegant – penned in moon dust

Fancy in Velvet #dailypost #poetry #Wish

Collectible-Porcelain-Doll-Red-Velvet-And-Gold

Today is the day

I have been promised

anything

for twenty-four hours

I have spent many nights

dreaming

and I have finally decided

down to the last bow

what I would wear, where I would go

The dress is laid out

red, velvety and lacy

with a white furry bonnet

and soft wool gloves

black patent leather shoes

and just a dab of pink lipstick

I swirl about in the mirror

catching my reflection

giddy as a little girl

“Miss it is time to go…”

I hear the porter call up the stairs

I make a grand entrance on 100 marble steps down to the foyer

A carriage of four awaits

to carry me to an elegant spot for high tea

and there they are my friends

perched on top of satin pillow seats

their hands perfectly folded

they would gasp and smile

but each had a painted doll face

they couldn’t partake in this part of the dream

they could watch as I daintily took a silver fork

each morsel better than the last

and finally there it was

a cake with one shining candle

“blow it out, make a wish…”

I had already gotten it

“I want to be real for a day…”

I sighed, “Tomorrow, it would be wonderful if I didn’t have to go back to being a doll…”

Photograph attribution.

The Daily Post writing prompt is Feeling Fancy.

What would you do??? You’re given unlimited funds to plan one day full of any and all luxuries you normally can’t afford. Tell us about your extravagant day with as much detail as possible.

Orchid #haiku #Photography

petals velvet smooth

reaching up toward the sun

your smile welcomes home

elegant dress for the night

outlined by the moon

Today’s prompt at Chevrefeuille is Orchid – the elegant flower of fall

Please link to this poem I wrote (one year ago) about two orchids who thought they were swans,

Photography: Smiling Orchid © L. Moon 2013

Reserved for the Rich (Theme Thursday)

I looked upon the elegant display of food on china that you could see through.

Flowers had been brought in for the occasion from other parts of the world – after all it was the dead of winter.

I wanted just a taste of the finest food; to inhale roses and gardenias.

As the daughter of the lowest servant on the estate, I would be lucky to get a dry left -over bone.

The standard poodle, Rasputin, would get some of the best that was left – he might share with me.

We were friends-Rasputin was the only friend I had in the world.

He had saved me from falling off the third story banister when I was two or three.

He was my protector. He loved me almost as much as I loved him.

He hated all the pretense of the family he lived with.

He told me that one day as we were having tea.

He always shared the best with me.

At times, he would invite me to share his satin bed cushion for a nap.

He was old now; I was no longer small enough to curl up with him on his cushion.

I know he wished I might attend the event rather than serve.

I didn’t mind.

“She will have to do” one of the servants said as she dragged me toward the living quarters.

I wondered what they were planning.

There, laid out on a huge bed, was a pewter satin dress. My eyes got big as the women yanked off my black servant’s attire.

Someone tugged on black ,sheer, silk nylons. I had never felt anything so luxurious next to my skin.

They wrapped diamonds around my neck and put my dark hair up in a quick coiffure. Fortunately my hair was naturally curly so it pinned up easily and ringlets naturally fell around my neck.

Black gloves and black shoes were the last accoutrement.

“Voila,” one of my friends said as she brushed away unseen lint.

“She is a beautiful.”

“Wonder what the master will say?”

I wondered why the master would say anything.

As one of the women squirted perfume, she explained that the party was one woman short.

Some important friends with a younger son were attending and they had promised a partner for him for dinner.

Someone quickly explained table etiquette.

What they didn’t know is Rasputin had taught me at tea.

I had always pretended to be as grand as he was.

The night was long, hot, and tiring.

The young man a fat, prideful, bore.

But … the food was magnificent

and I got to inhale the flowers

to my heart’s content.

Photo: Burning Photo

*http://www.flickr.com/photos/photographyburns/4276733586/

The Message in the Mirror #NWCU #ghosts #poetry

What voices do you hear when you look in the mirror?

She walked into a shop

steeped in another era

scents of old

ancient things from there

***

Up in a loft

she saw an ivory mirror

she held it’s loveliness

tell me what did she hear?

***

It was a voice

with an accent sublime

young and clear

from another time

***

Are you talking to me?

I hear you my dear

the young voice queries

please come a little near

***

Where is the woman?

no one but me

looking around

where can she be?

***

Then just as sweetly

she gave me a message

must be for others

what is the passage?

***

Tell them I love them

tell them I’m here

tell them I’m waiting

give them love and cheer

***

Who do I tell?

can’t you be clearer

now she was gone

the lady in the mirror

This (archived) poem is prompted by this week’s Wednesday Wake Up Call at New World Creative Union. We are asked to reflect on our ancestors. The prose is fictional but inspired by a mirror and a memory.

Painting: Waterhouse “Rosebuds while ye may”