She watched the flames as they flickered up the coals,
and felt the warmth emanate from them.
Not a real fire, of course,
but one that was commanded by electricity,
effective none the less.
Leaning back in the chair, she thought,
funny how we can be taken in by something ‘fake'
that looks so genuine.
Like his stories, all bogus, burning the heart, slowly.
When they first met, all was dreamy.
He was handsome, charming, debonair,
compatibility seemed to exist between them.
The perfect gent that she had hoped to find.
Then she found out it was all a sham,
and that he was a cheat, a liar
and a philanderer.
One overwhelming feeling of revulsion had taken over
and anger filled her mind.
She looked again towards the reddish orange blaze,
and made a promise to herself, never to get burnt
by an imitation of the bona fide article.
© Ernestine Northover
This poem illustrates the incredible range of your poetic style Ernestine. Different from many of yours, this free verse poem is a salutory read (particularly on this site, I suspect) about those that charm with their wily words and their handsome faces. 'Like his stories, all bogus, burning the heart, slowly.' stood out for me. Great poem. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Great work full of fiery passion. Andrew. x
very touching..passionate piece..i love the gentle flow of words..
I enjoyed reading this Ernestine, sometimes we put our trust in people and realise we have made a mistake, the point of this write being things or people are not always what they seem, well-penned as always, Love Lynda xx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A strong fire that burns in this one Ernestine, not your usual style but passionate points made none-the -less Love duncan X