Thursday, 4 April 2013

The Party's Over Poem

The Party’s Over

The party’s over, she said with venom,

dressed in denim with a long pullover.

It’s time to call it a day.  You’ve hooked me

bought my silence.  Now I can only mime.

It was the crack, the Devil’s dandruff dealt

by the mad jester who bragged, was sleazy.

began to pester for easy money.

It was the loud bang of that burst balloon

that hangs in the room, limp as a low moon.

Around  that dim light we floated and danced,

it felt right  we’d survive on disco ground.

No chance to fulfil crazy dreams. Wake up, pay

and take off that make up you hide behind.

The party’s over.

You’re not my friend.

©Margaret Rowland

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