EXTRAVAGANT

Extravagant

Extravagant

Today I want to be extravagant
To do, to be, to experience something extra
something outside my usual dull round
Of daily dreary activities
Meaningless actions, getting nowhere, achieving nothing.
Today I will break free
And for once be extravagant.
Wandering outside my comfort zone
Trying new things, exploring new possibilities.
Fine.
But what shall I do?
I know, I’ll buy a cream meringue and eat it with a double cappuccino!

ESME

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Compass

Compass needle pointing to North
Never wavering, never deviating
Solid, strong, unchanging, unbending.
Showing the way to the uncertain traveller.
Some people are born with an inbuilt compass
Know from the start where they are going to.
I’d like to be one like that
But alas I am not.
I struggle to make sense of maps
To plot a compass bearing
To set the map so it faces North.
Perhaps I need a Satnav
A firm voice telling me
“Turn right”, “After one mile, turn left”
You have reached you destination.

ESME

Elegy on the Death of My Muse

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/muse/”>Muse</a&gt;

Sounds good.
(I knew it would!)
My muse is dead,
that’s what I said.
I’ve lost the urge
to splurge on verse
and, worse than that,
my prose is flat,
dull as a lake.
No breeze to shake
the surface stillness.
Is this an illness
that I can shake off
like a sneeze or a cough
or final and fatal
and from this date I’ll
write no more,
write but to bore?
I won’t entertain it,
can’t explain it,
But I just know
It can’t be so!

ESME

CG16D

C a R e F r EE

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/carefree/”>Carefree</a&gt;

 

Carefree

I’ve time to spare.
to do and dare
I’ve time to share
With friends.

I brush my hair
What shall I wear?
the forecast’s fair
“Begone dull care”
The Bard once said. Depends
if weight of care
can bring despair
so I don’t dare
to leave my lair
or climb the stair
to reach the rainbow’s end.

I yearn to be
I’ll learn to be
Completely totally
CAREFREE!

CG16D

ESME

Frail?

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/frail/”>Frail</a&gt;

“Frailty, thy name is woman”

Shakespeare, or rather Hamlet, lamenting the fact that his mother had married his uncle very soon after his father’s death. Today I think we’d call  Gertrude treacherous and wicked rather than frail. To me the term “frail” conjures up a person  man or woman, who is physically weak,  probably elderly and easily swayed by a stronger personality.

The term that goes most often with “frail” is “old lady”.  A doddery old woman tottering along with the help of a stick, speaking in a low croaky voice and generally overlooked and disregarded by those around her.

I’ve dealt with this situation in several pieces of fiction I’ve written where an old lady is being bossed about (usually by her daughter}. This “frail” character develops unsuspected strength and ingenuity when dealing with an unforeseen problem. The chararacter of the little old lady with  hidden depths is, I think, sadly overlooked in popular fiction.

Nowadays we have become used to strong women in postions of authority, Margaret Thatcher, for instance, and of course our new Prime Minister.  By no stretch of the imagination could either of these women be described as “frail”.

 

 

ESME

CG16D