This was Hollywood hung in primary colors.
Daddy's little princess turned out with the trash
by a fast young man who could wear a suit
and shoot the breeze from the wheel of a Pontiac Bonneville.
Your baby doesn't love you anymore.
Candy waits for Brad to call, her thoughts full
of his blue serge suit and player's jaw.
A cheated sweetheart not quite pretty or complete;
her yellow hair throws curves as she cries silver.
You won't be seeing rainbows anymore.
A thin faced New Yorker stands in front of her
neurosis stretched across his canvas sheet;
and Roy declares in hard black lines
a scene with dots that replicate a moment -
It's over.
It's over.
It's over.
London Grip New Poetry, Autumn Edition 2013
The Lady in the Lake
She arrived at the expected time
on friendly terms with drink
and cigarettes.
Her face seduced
and garbled hair unwound
to pull me in.
Tragic and romantic frail
Millais's Ophelia
gone blonde down in Hollywood.
Becalmed.
Gazing out
behind a glass.
Shadwell is a school teacher who lives in a
small town called Dunstable, about thirty miles to the north of London. His
poems have appeared in a number online magazines and he
sometimes appears in pubs, clubs and coffee shops reading them.
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