Wake to dimness,
alarm clock trilling in my ear.
Mickey Mouse face grinning,
jeering as I slap it into silence.
Roll out of bed...
more like fall.
Shower.
Okay.. I think I can cope.
Coffee.
Strong and black,
no sugar,
start the day as it'll go on;
bitter.
Time for my beauty regime,
if 'beauty' is the right word.
Hard brush to the cellulite,
skin rubbed raw but who'll see
under sensible slacks?
Industrial strength cream,
lotion for my face.
Tweezers at the brow,
chin too,
though I'd never admit it
to anyone.
Basic make-up.
Cement to fill in the tired lines,
the evidence of my youth's decline.
Why try?
No-one notices.
Clothes on.
Coat on.
Shoes on.
Barely ready for anything,
let alone work.
But it makes it almost bearable,
My ritual.
Author notes
Okay, so it's not all that happy, but I haven't been either recently. It's not about me, just some woman, but I know what it's like to need a certain ritual to make the day manageable.
A contest entry
- Ritual by polly filla.
1050 points, ended April 13, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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I'm not sure "dimmness" would 'trill'. The 1st lines confuse me.
as for the rest; you're right: the ritual of 'getting ready' does prepare us women. They don't call it 'war paint' for nothing!
thanks for entering!
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Dimness is the light in the room, the trill is an alarm clock. Thanks for the applause. x
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