Hanging by a hair

The scuttlebutt on making the cut.

Hanging by a hair

My mane is mindless, savage strew.

In short, these locks ain’t got no clue.

Each tress does trickle, ne’er to tame,

With no smooth shine or form to frame.

My every fiber takes a stand;

Each filament flies out of hand.

 I’d choose to charm these waves a-wild,

But they resist like wayward child.

I’m overdue (You may have guessed.)

To put the expert to the test.

So sign me up. I’ll bring my mess

For wonder-working S-O-S.

c2016 by Linda Ann Nickerson

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

Mad Kane Humor: “frame”

Meme Express: “sign me up”

One-Liner Wednesday: “Ain’t got no clue”

Simply Snickers: “charm,” “choose,” and “child”

Six Word Sunday: Describe your life in six words. (See the subtitle.)

Stream of Consciousness Saturday / #SoCS : Word/s ending in “-est”

Theme Thursday: “smooth”

Thursday Challenge: “hair”

Image/s:

Vintage/public domain image.

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Garbled style for awhile

Garbled style for awhile

(When fashion’s vault leads to default)

This wardrobe needs an overhaul.

Perhaps a field trip to the mall.

Well, here’s the gist.

My kids insist.

They’re calling in a wrecking ball.

With dresses from the seventies

And other fashion felonies,

My style brings shame

Upon my frame.

It’s time for new amenities.

Say, can you see pale jeans with bells,

The stonewashed skinnies, fond farewells?

Old cuffs and pleats,

Toss those receipts.

A road trip calls where whimsy dwells.

Don’t get them started on the shoes –

The pointy toes, spike heels – bad news!

Oh, clogs, bewares!

How many pairs,

All suffering from overuse?

My jungle – cluttered, hackneyed, spent –

Brings me to radical repent:

No wild fads,

Just classic adds.

To window-shop won’t reinvent.

I shudder still with coins in hand.

If I had bills, I’d hold them fanned.

I do declare,

With pockets bare,

Such outings may be less than planned.

A change in vogue does me confound.

What if old fads come back around?

c2016 by Linda Ann Nickerson

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

ABC Wednesday: “J” or “jungle”

Daily Prompt: “radical”

Meme Express: “road trip”

Simply Snickers: “window,” “wild,” and “whimsy”

Image/s:

Vintage/public domain image.

Feel free to follow on Google Plus and Twitter. Please visit my Amazon author page as well.

Skipping past loom and doom

Sometimes a weave brings us reprieve.

Skipping past loom and doom

Me melancholy? No, siree.

It’s simply not my cup of tea.

I’m fine, you know.

Or does it show?

Perhaps it’s merely repartee.

 

“Play nice,” they say. I must object.

The rules were wrong, last time I checked.

Just to travail

And bring the mail

May stop the shuttle in effect.

 

From warp to weft, a lot is left,

When weaving through one’s life.

The finest textiles fall to theft,

If subjected to strife.

 

I wanna fly with feathers high,

Escape to heal, re-fortify.

I’m living large

To stop, recharge,

And view a vantage by and by.

 

So labor’s lost at any cost,

As workers may be too far bossed.

Unraveled threads

Bring hotter heads,

Thus, fortune’s fools are double-crossed.

 

From warp to weft, a lot is left,

When weaving through one’s life.

The finest textiles fall to theft,

If subjected to strife.

c2016 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Thanks, Sepia Saturday, for the photo prompt.

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

Daily Prompts: “recharge”

Five Minute Friday: “heal”

Meme Express: “play nice”

Sepia Saturday: vintage photo

Simply Snickers: “fine,” “fly,” and “feather”

Six Word Saturday: Describe your life in six words. (See subtitle.)

Stream of Consciousness Saturday: “view”

Image/s:

Vintage/public domain image.

Feel free to follow on Google Plus and Twitter. Please visit my Amazon author page as well.