Artificial

[Ramona]

Sparked by an idea I got yesterday, I think I might go through it again and add more actual poetry to this piece, but I'd like to know what else you think i should change.

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she smears pink coral lipstick on with her little finger
her compact case glints in the light of the waiting room
legs crossed over selftannerorange ankles

harsh light from the lamp blanches her complexion
he concentrates on the hypodermic needle
and injects her face to get rid of laugh lines

she shops at all the stores the magazines applaud
doesn't look for bargains 'cause she has money to burn
and, oh, how it burns, burns holes in her pockets

she whispers to her lover while her husband is away
she hears the things they say they'd give to have him
but she only wants him because they do

the wrinkles on her face finally get to her
sixty-three years old with skin that matches her age
two dark spots of flusteredblush high on her cheeks

and when she fell asleep that night
with the diamond earrings she always wore to bed
she thought of material possessions

her coffin was mahogany and she wore her pearls to hell
eyes closed like when she had her chemical peels
mortician's foundation layered thick on her face

artificial even in death

[Queen of Rain]

excellent my dear.. i have no comments of improvement, maybe because im too tired or too low in caffeine.. or jsut because this piece is so excellent
the playful neologisms and the non condeming tone fits perfect into the creeping judgement at the end.. it works excellent in its prosaic form!

[behindTHEmask]

she smears pink coral lipstick on with her little finger
her compact case glints in the light of the waiting room
legs crossed over selftannerorange ankles

I think it's because in the past two days, I've heard many poems about women painting themselves taht I find the idea of the lipstick and compact case over used. May find something more representative for it - change your perspective. But, I think the selftanningorange was brilliant. I could picture the color well.

she shops at all the stores the magazines applaud
doesn't look for bargains 'cause she has money to burn
and, oh, how it burns, burns holes in her pockets

Again, maybe it's because I've heard a few poems like this in the past day, I just feel it's not as original as it could be. The way you started out just seems, blase.

she whispers to her lover while her husband is away
she hears the things they say they'd give to have him
but she only wants him because they do

Excellent. Put more of that type of writing in the poem. It makes me smile in goodness.

[Ramona]

Thanks. I'll work on it...maybe. Probably not, but I'll seriously think about it.