Poetry competition CLOSED 4th August 2013 6:05pm
WINNER
MadameLavender
MadameLavender
Page:
Prohibition
Bonnie At Gibsland
In the still of the morning
9:15, muggy,
Louisiana,
The Ford rolls into position.
She looks over and smiles at him,
Radiant in their love.
They ready themselves in the brush
For this moment,
Alert, still
Waiting.
She rests her hand atop his knee
As he drives;
Young,
They are invincible, to themselves.
On edge,
The Six look to each other
For assurance
For validation
For the signal—
This is it.
She laughs at something he says
He is her world,
That boy who shared her hot chocolate.
Poised at the ready,
The Six raise their guns;
In the sights,
The first bullets fly.
She screams as he is hit;
Gone instantly,
She has but one moment to think
Before it’s her turn.
130 Rounds let loose
Riddling the Ford
With pock-mark holes
As it glides to a halt.
She feels every bullet
That rips into her;
There is no time to sob
Or think of the poetry she wrote.
The Six finish
As the last shot rings out,
Finalizing all,
In the year of our Lord, 1934.
She slips away
And slumps toward him,
Her eternal lover who stole her heart
While they stole what they chose
The money, the illegal liquor
And left a trail of blood in their wake.
They lower their rifles,
The Six,
As the one with the camera
Begins to film
As they pick apart the scene.
She is no longer her mother’s girl,
Hair matted in blood
And silent,
A life cut short by the wrong choice.
Bonnie Parker, 1910-1934
In the still of the morning
9:15, muggy,
Louisiana,
The Ford rolls into position.
She looks over and smiles at him,
Radiant in their love.
They ready themselves in the brush
For this moment,
Alert, still
Waiting.
She rests her hand atop his knee
As he drives;
Young,
They are invincible, to themselves.
On edge,
The Six look to each other
For assurance
For validation
For the signal—
This is it.
She laughs at something he says
He is her world,
That boy who shared her hot chocolate.
Poised at the ready,
The Six raise their guns;
In the sights,
The first bullets fly.
She screams as he is hit;
Gone instantly,
She has but one moment to think
Before it’s her turn.
130 Rounds let loose
Riddling the Ford
With pock-mark holes
As it glides to a halt.
She feels every bullet
That rips into her;
There is no time to sob
Or think of the poetry she wrote.
The Six finish
As the last shot rings out,
Finalizing all,
In the year of our Lord, 1934.
She slips away
And slumps toward him,
Her eternal lover who stole her heart
While they stole what they chose
The money, the illegal liquor
And left a trail of blood in their wake.
They lower their rifles,
The Six,
As the one with the camera
Begins to film
As they pick apart the scene.
She is no longer her mother’s girl,
Hair matted in blood
And silent,
A life cut short by the wrong choice.
Bonnie Parker, 1910-1934
A Drink and A Dame
I walked down the alleyway
itching for my brown plaid
rapping two times and a scratch
for chewing gum entry-"butterfly nets"
as a breezer flew by the face stretcher cried
"WOO-HOO Harp get to peddling"
the sour mutt lets me in
fidgeting Dixie like I'm his nexus Slim
I roll up tabletop to catch the skinny
punching the bag with Izzy he leans me in
sketching something about Toms well gone dry
this didn't beat sweets for other drums
all I know is right now I got my acid glass
so I slink the gazers around catching the hubbub
many a Oliver twist skip fandango
while scattered on plank I see
A pill, a palooka, a munitions expert and other Janes
I figured to trigger me a trap and loosen some wax
down there with the huddled ankles
shouting out a round O hooch for these live wires
I ride the edge of sparks
"what line you got to spill stilts"
says the tongue of the bunch
I said no worries Mrs. Grundy
I just was making polite
she smiled and said "butt me Hugo"
flippin' open the fag stash She finagles two
what's wrong with the flour-girl
I say nodding behind me
"She caught her old man with a necker"
"and has had that mug slapped for days"
that's the latest craze I say
he'll drag back soon enough for lunch
"twirl me stilts, and if you're any good"
"maybe we can catch a late dance"
we cut the rug for an hour steppin on other toes
while sippin on some tall hard drinks
we were down the bottle with each other
no time flat, we kicked back a breath
and She handed me a mop
saying "lets mooch this joint"
I was pinned to this skirt,
and we flew out the coop
we looked a sight decked in our glad rags
kickin' up the dust, when a bull made our tag
he slapped on our engagement rings
and rolled me over, penning me
I sit here in the big house
while She went bull riding
one day, I wont be paddling this dry boat
I walked down the alleyway
itching for my brown plaid
rapping two times and a scratch
for chewing gum entry-"butterfly nets"
as a breezer flew by the face stretcher cried
"WOO-HOO Harp get to peddling"
the sour mutt lets me in
fidgeting Dixie like I'm his nexus Slim
I roll up tabletop to catch the skinny
punching the bag with Izzy he leans me in
sketching something about Toms well gone dry
this didn't beat sweets for other drums
all I know is right now I got my acid glass
so I slink the gazers around catching the hubbub
many a Oliver twist skip fandango
while scattered on plank I see
A pill, a palooka, a munitions expert and other Janes
I figured to trigger me a trap and loosen some wax
down there with the huddled ankles
shouting out a round O hooch for these live wires
I ride the edge of sparks
"what line you got to spill stilts"
says the tongue of the bunch
I said no worries Mrs. Grundy
I just was making polite
she smiled and said "butt me Hugo"
flippin' open the fag stash She finagles two
what's wrong with the flour-girl
I say nodding behind me
"She caught her old man with a necker"
"and has had that mug slapped for days"
that's the latest craze I say
he'll drag back soon enough for lunch
"twirl me stilts, and if you're any good"
"maybe we can catch a late dance"
we cut the rug for an hour steppin on other toes
while sippin on some tall hard drinks
we were down the bottle with each other
no time flat, we kicked back a breath
and She handed me a mop
saying "lets mooch this joint"
I was pinned to this skirt,
and we flew out the coop
we looked a sight decked in our glad rags
kickin' up the dust, when a bull made our tag
he slapped on our engagement rings
and rolled me over, penning me
I sit here in the big house
while She went bull riding
one day, I wont be paddling this dry boat
