Life In Minds Of Dolls Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

Placed high on shelf in mind,
behind life's curtain gauze
safe in thought, prim of dress,
close lips as if to pause
mute voice murmurs secret tale,
a question seeks a cause
of ideas in kind, spoke as if
quotes from work of Waugh.

Psyche was by all said as
'Personification of the soul'
frivolous particle of fem,
actuates each girl-childs awe
possessed knowledge passed,
from first female DNA to all
rend in flesh worst and best
for that all male do fall.

Anon time calls, dolls fall
under spell of you know whom
round twelve break Fathers will
and in river Styx brew
quickly, with growth of bust,
dress crossed upon a shrew
change gems to uncouth girly louts,
ones you never knew.

Little one whose falls you broke
on day gave you tickle
wrath rode on vicious cycle,
rend your soul with scythe
refuse she does to run to you,
hold your body in a pickle
cast aside is thought of you,
your net, one plug nickel.

What within this mind cast dark
upon once light of soul
turn pride to shame, game to lust,
burn felicity off home
gleeful cries to shrieking sighs
parents you are loathed
end for you to be, hopefully,
your sweet girls betrothal!