This week it is Lorraine at LSSATTITUDEOFGRATITUDE . To choose the prompt for Throwback Thursday Memory Blog hop. Next week Maggie at FROMTHECAVEWALLS will return, as they
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This week’s prompt is: Collections – Take this prompt wherever it leads you.
I have never been much of a collector, as a child I did collect dolls from different countries but to be honest that was more my sisters and mum’s idea than mine I just went along for the ride . Really from when I could read words , poems, lyrics and music have been my collections. So here are three of my favourite collection pieces.
The Collecter of bones
For the longest time the child had collected bones and dead insects.
Body parts she cut from animals so she could learn how they worked .
Not dead animals the organs had to be alive and pumping
Warm and growing, breathing , flowing.
It had started with a bone collection but she had needed to have more knowledge.
She collected spiders and insects from the hedge .
Soon cats and dogs went missing , they’d disappear?
Her mother shut her eyes to what she guessed, keeping silent her fear.
The child spent less and less time at home
She preferred to be in the woods foraging on her own.
Then the odd baby disappeared from it’s cot
The need for learning was all that mattered to the swot.
One day she was gone, she did not return home
The child had decided it was time to roam.
With necklaces of eyes and ears and trinkets made of bone
She traveled the word her skills to practice and hone.
bone collector.
Lock your windows , close your doors
She is out there crossing fields and moors
She is bigger now and stronger
Only harvests what she needs, keeps her donors alive longer
What made the child want to collect this way
The thirst for knowledge one might say.
Or maybe pure evil invaded her whole
She was such a beauty in body but not in soul.
Beware when out on day or night
Beware those eyes so angelic a sight .
Run from the clink of bone and tooth
She will not spare you and that is the truth!
She is only out to collect
So lock your doors and your loved ones protect.
****
The Hairdresser the soul collector
At the hairdressers, shampoo rinsing in the sink behind you, water drip drip drip.
Towel drying your tresses then combing out the knots slick slick
Time now for the magic scissor blades eating at your hair, clip clip clip.
Talk of last nights conquests, who was with who and did what dig dig dig dig.
Would you like a coffee, tea or water, coffee black no sugar, please sip sip sip .
Get the feathering done now, scissor blades flash hair falls snip snip snip
Oh! that’s my favourite song, oh yeah! it is just so good to dance to click click click.
Are you holidaying this year?on safari, me? not this year I can’t afford the trip trip trip.
The junior brings the coffee in her pretty flip flops painted toes go flip flip flip.
Spraying lacquer, styling mousse , firming gel and hot brush, hair goes flick flick flick.
A tease here, a lift there.Wow that looks good don’t ya think ! slick slick slick
Time to pay into your purse you dip zip zip zip
And a tip yes, another dip dip dip !
cutting your souls
Men and women come in for styles outrageous as they dare dare dare.
Couples too come for his and hers styles and I do the pair pair pair.
They are always pleased and say my rates are fair fair fair.
They come to me once a month so I can cut their hair hair hair.
I make them beautiful so their friends will stare stare stare.
They say my styles are beautiful, amazing yes I have a flair flair flair.
They have no idea I am collecting their souls, they don’t care care care.
They get the unique styles they want, I get souls which I will not share share share.
As I sweep up the cuttings from the floor, well they are spare spare spare.
I am never late, my job is my life and I live up the stairs stair stair stair.
This is my life cutting their souls for me it is like breathing air air air air.
*****
The Dream collector.
Every night while we sleep
Across the lake her nets she casts deep
It is not fish but our dreams
Our hopes, needs and all our schemes.
Secret birds of the night
Spy her whilst on their endless flight.
Why does she spend every night
Endeavoring our dreams to hold tight.
She is waif like she is fair ,
She is heart broken and full of dispair .
Why does she always cast her net at night
Shying away from us and avoiding the light.
Once like us she walked in the light
Before she was condemned to endless night.
She had a lover who she worshiped and adored
Yet he betrayed and left her though she wept and implored.
Anger and jealousy beset her she could not live
She could not breath or think without her lover
In rage she sort him out and she did discover
He was wrapped in the legs and arms of another.
She cut them deep, she bled them dry
And as she did all she could do was cry.
She screamed at the Sun to no longer shine on her
She begged the Moon to keep her and never let this hurt reoccur
The God of love and goodness took pity on her
Set her to fishing for dreams in hope her soul to repair.
So this endless task is hers, never to be free
Of all the hopes and dreams that escape from you and me
Secret birds of the night
Spy her whilst on their endless flight.
Why does she spend every night
Endeavoring our dreams to hold tight.
********
Thank you for reading.
willowdot21 
