Chocolate/ Blonde Hair – (Lady Godiva replaced by H. Kisses)
I wrote the draft poem below for Tess Kincaid’s Magpie Tales, where Tess posts a weekly photo prompt. This week, I’ve really just used Tess’s photo as a springboard; my drawing and poem are not meant as direct interpretations.
Chocolate/Blonde Hair
I.
Some people have a real hankering
for long blonde hair.
Do you really think
there would be a certain overrated
chocolate chain,
if Lady Godiva
had paraded atop her nag
with a short shag?
II.
“You can’t get that out of a bottle,” strangers would
say about my hair as a kid, when it was
long and straight and naturally
blonde. Dyed hair, my mother
declared was blocky, all one
shoddy shade, nothing that could even compare
with what I grew, and so, for a while,
I felt a certain halo, until growing
tired of halos, I
insisted on hair cut short, though because
it was my hair,
collected the swathes in
a small and dark brown
box, which both amazed and
hurt me, for what had felt so long
(for so long) and golden, had spun down
to a handful of softish straw.
When I looked in the mirror,
what I saw there too was
diminished, not the sly pixie,
but a confused Delilah,
shorn by mistake,
whose face was round and
who didn’t even have the name
right.
III.
You can’t get that out of
a chocolate–
a memory:
tobogganing, the sky turning lavender above
tracked speed, as if
we were a flexibly flying flame
amidst the drifts, and below the
blur of snow-flaked lashes, everyone’s
skin shone, till legs trudged (toes urging faster),
to get to the burnish of gas-fired
stove, pot of milk, melt–
a taste:
it was Colombian chocolate, cut in squares
sprinkled with brown sugar, leaving a trace
of smoke in the throat, the kind of smoke that, bluish, always
carries dawn or dusk as it slinks down
steep altitudes;
a friend:
she was my best, and on different visit, when the wind
chilled and I’d had to wear some older sister’s old beau’s sweater
and thick shoes, she’d laughed at my discomfiture, till I learned not to care
about such things for a short
while–truly not at all–the look of them–not
once she re-filled my cup.
(As always, all rights reserved. Sorry this so long–a draft!)
Explore posts in the same categories: poetry, UncategorizedTags: chocolate hair poem, chocolate/blonde hair, cravings poem, lady godiva poem, Magpie Tales, manicddaily
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ManicDDaily 
February 12, 2012 at 5:49 pm
nice….the first made me laugh…i think i like the last the best though…not a huge chocolate fan but that square covered in cinnamon sounds rather nice k and the segue into the friend as well…i like this…def a fresh perspective on the prompt…
February 12, 2012 at 5:50 pm
I lost you a bit in the last stanza, but the rest…this is a draft? Really snagged me. I love the confused Delilah, and “flexibly flying flame”, and all the chocolate. smoke.
February 12, 2012 at 7:12 pm
Thanks, I think I made last stanza a bit clearer. Thanks again.
February 12, 2012 at 7:02 pm
I loved this! Going to link this in my Sunday Salon post. Is that ok?
February 12, 2012 at 7:08 pm
Sure, thanks much! Maybe I should revise a little!? ??
February 12, 2012 at 7:13 pm
I did fix last stanza teeny bit, a bit easier to follow maybe–Thanks! K.
February 12, 2012 at 8:14 pm
I love it !
🙂
February 12, 2012 at 10:22 pm
I love the chocolate… and can relate to the natural long golden hair as a child that definitely can never come from a bottle… I really enjoyed this!
February 12, 2012 at 10:55 pm
honest and powerful discussions.
wow.
February 13, 2012 at 5:49 am
Superior entertainment, is how I would classify this! Up to your usual enviable standard.
February 13, 2012 at 3:09 pm
Love it! This is my favorite:
“what I saw there too was
diminished, not the sly pixie,
but a confused Delilah,
shorn by mistake”
February 13, 2012 at 3:23 pm
Thanks so much, Shawna.
February 13, 2012 at 4:13 pm
Totally terrific read…chocolate in any guise is a winner!
February 13, 2012 at 7:14 pm
The title intrigued me … from there I was totally hooked.
February 14, 2012 at 4:48 pm
i like how you saw this as lady godiva. also the whole mirror thing, some people’s pieces made me think of this orgy as if seen through a ceiling mirror, and your piece kind of had that POV
haunting suppleness
February 14, 2012 at 5:22 pm
I loved reading this….. over and over. The memories of sledding, of being frozen and wet, of hot chocolate and friends. So awesome. Now that I am grey…… I WANT MY CURLY RED HAIR BACK!!! I miss it so. Childhood colors have a hue that cannot be duplicated, it’s so true and precious. This read was a gift, thank you.
February 14, 2012 at 5:48 pm
Ha! Thanks, Linda.
February 14, 2012 at 6:45 pm
Beautiful take on young innocents! The locations were different but the fun and games were the same.
Hank
February 15, 2012 at 6:39 am
Well done for finding a unique interpretation for this Mag.
February 15, 2012 at 8:37 am
These are all wonderful pieces of work. By all means call them drafts, work on them some more, tighten them up – but they are fine as they stand too.
February 15, 2012 at 8:39 am
Thanks.
February 15, 2012 at 2:58 pm
Synchronicity…I just wrote a poem about the pixie cut! This was a delightful read!
February 15, 2012 at 2:59 pm
Thanks so much, Tess.