04-10-2015, 08:37 PM
Blanche - edit 1 (ellajam, Tiger the Lion)
Her youth was clothed in frills and coy allure.
When time took lives and taxes she grew poor.
Her delicacy drained by haunting fears,
though charm and warmth survived long tired years.
By day she nursed sick family in their bed.
By year she placed fresh flowers on the dead.
Each night she sought escape in an embrace
from soldiers passing through to a new face:
Blanche..................Blanche............,
by the willow they would cry,
enchanted by the passion of her sigh.
She drowned her woes with wine and wantonness
on blemished back streets bruised by homelessness.
"Destitute", she stressed by frantic wire,
then traveled on the Streetcar Named Desire;
descending to a slum drenched in defeat,
where greasy brutes brawled in the muddy street.
Inside. stained paint chips float from barren walls,
a naked light bulb, hung from wire, falls.
Flowers........................Flowers.......................,
she laid upon the dead,
were ghostly visions vexing her with dread.
Hands gripped upon a weathered wooden chair
that sat beside the tattered tableware;.
Blanche placed a shade upon the naked light,
concealing shadows on her face from sight.
She wore a satin robe, her lips in rose,
in vain pursuit of youth before its close.
Her host sat frowning, prowling for a fight.
describing her 'a scam' with piercing spite.
She dreamt of magic, fantasy and bliss;
those buried byways led to this abyss.
Blanche........................Blanche.......................,
though phantoms threatened danger,
depended on the kindness of a stranger.
g.e.Kaye 4/9/15, edited 4/16/15
Blanche - original
Her youth was clothed in frills and coy allure,
but time took lives and hope, then she was poor.
Her delicacy strained by counting fears,
though charm and warmth survived long tired years.
She sought escape each night in an embrace
from soldiers passing through to a new place.
Blanche.........Blanche............to her sill they cried.
She smile at them through tears as family died.
Destitute left one route to acquire,'
she traveled on the streetcar called desire;
descending on a slum nicknamed defeat,
where sweaty brutes brawled on the muddy street.
Inside, stained paint chips float from barren walls
and naked light bulbs, hung from wire, falls.
Flowers.........Flowers...........flowers for the dead.
Remembered loss revisited her with dread.
Hand gripped upon a withered wooden chair,
that sat beside the tattered tableware;
Blanche wore a satin robe, her lips in rose,
evading fading youth before its close.
Despising charm her dull host unimpressed
returned her kind words with crass protest,
Her hint of smile the veil of buried bliss
beneath her weary ways with death to this,
Blanche.......Blanche.......though echoes threatened danger,
she clung to the arm of a kind stranger.
g.e.Kaye 4/9/15
Her youth was clothed in frills and coy allure.
When time took lives and taxes she grew poor.
Her delicacy drained by haunting fears,
though charm and warmth survived long tired years.
By day she nursed sick family in their bed.
By year she placed fresh flowers on the dead.
Each night she sought escape in an embrace
from soldiers passing through to a new face:
Blanche..................Blanche............,
by the willow they would cry,
enchanted by the passion of her sigh.
She drowned her woes with wine and wantonness
on blemished back streets bruised by homelessness.
"Destitute", she stressed by frantic wire,
then traveled on the Streetcar Named Desire;
descending to a slum drenched in defeat,
where greasy brutes brawled in the muddy street.
Inside. stained paint chips float from barren walls,
a naked light bulb, hung from wire, falls.
Flowers........................Flowers.......................,
she laid upon the dead,
were ghostly visions vexing her with dread.
Hands gripped upon a weathered wooden chair
that sat beside the tattered tableware;.
Blanche placed a shade upon the naked light,
concealing shadows on her face from sight.
She wore a satin robe, her lips in rose,
in vain pursuit of youth before its close.
Her host sat frowning, prowling for a fight.
describing her 'a scam' with piercing spite.
She dreamt of magic, fantasy and bliss;
those buried byways led to this abyss.
Blanche........................Blanche.......................,
though phantoms threatened danger,
depended on the kindness of a stranger.
g.e.Kaye 4/9/15, edited 4/16/15
Blanche - original
Her youth was clothed in frills and coy allure,
but time took lives and hope, then she was poor.
Her delicacy strained by counting fears,
though charm and warmth survived long tired years.
She sought escape each night in an embrace
from soldiers passing through to a new place.
Blanche.........Blanche............to her sill they cried.
She smile at them through tears as family died.
Destitute left one route to acquire,'
she traveled on the streetcar called desire;
descending on a slum nicknamed defeat,
where sweaty brutes brawled on the muddy street.
Inside, stained paint chips float from barren walls
and naked light bulbs, hung from wire, falls.
Flowers.........Flowers...........flowers for the dead.
Remembered loss revisited her with dread.
Hand gripped upon a withered wooden chair,
that sat beside the tattered tableware;
Blanche wore a satin robe, her lips in rose,
evading fading youth before its close.
Despising charm her dull host unimpressed
returned her kind words with crass protest,
Her hint of smile the veil of buried bliss
beneath her weary ways with death to this,
Blanche.......Blanche.......though echoes threatened danger,
she clung to the arm of a kind stranger.
g.e.Kaye 4/9/15