Elaine Oxamendi Vicet

Rookie (December 16 / Kingston. Jamaica)

The Prostitute In The Making - Poem by Elaine Oxamendi Vicet

Tyres screech
as the sliver grey car
engage,
ground to a halt
reverse to view
approve; as if in awe
pause and watch
as red beams of light dance and shimmer
on steaming hot black asphalt roads.

It is not her fault,
that she had tyres screech and stop.
She was wearing red hot, short, short, shorts.
It was a Spring hot Summer day.

It is not her fault
the light cotton blouse
dance and responded to the breeze
that blew, puff and fluff.

It is not her fault.
It was a Spring hot Summer day.

Hungry eyes look
As hand moves to shade from the glare of those
red hot beams that emanate around
on steaming hot black asphalt streets.

It is not her fault
that they gawked and stared
as round mounds filled and fashioned
imprints on red hot short, short, shorts.

It is not her fault
that the gentle breeze dance
between those hand sized cups
that conspire thoughts that
one could sip, savour and sup.

Curious eyes with longing stares follow her
As anticipating lips part and ask
A raspy voice breaks “Ëxcuse me please, a moment of your time.”

Could they be lost?
Could they have missed their spot, she thought?
Red hot short, short, shorts stopped.

Whispering as he leans his head out he says,
“I’ll give you $500.00; No, $1000.00, if come in my ride,
I’ll give you $2,000.00 if you share my ride.”

It was Hot Spring Summer Day on steaming black asphalt streets.

It is not her fault that they stopped.
It is not her fault the wind danced and provoked that way.
It is not her fault!
She pondered on what she might say.

It is not her fault that there is a global recession.
It is not her fault that jobs were lost.
It is not her fault that the world seems to have astray.
It is not her fault many have fallen to moral decay.

It is simply not her fault!


Thursday March 5 2009
10: 00am


Comments about The Prostitute In The Making by Elaine Oxamendi Vicet

  • (3/27/2009 9:18:00 AM)

    It is not her fault
    that the gentle breeze dance
    between those hand sized cups
    that conspire thoughts that
    one could sip, savour and sup.


    This verse is a masterpiece of poetry....I love the poem in its entirety. However, I so do not see a prostitute in the making...instead I see 'The Queen Bee'....every one likes honey...and hey....honey cost money......!
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  • (3/20/2009 10:42:00 AM)

    It is really unfair the tendency we have to judge other people based upon appearance and dress. The young lady was dress this way because of the hot weather. I really like this poem though especially the imagery used here: 'as round mounds filled and fashioned
    imprints on red hot short, short, shorts.' I read that part 4 times.
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  • (3/7/2009 12:16:00 AM)

    The last stanza brought tears
    It is sad that due to recent recession
    there, God knows how many
    resorted to prostitution

    Lets help each other
    Lets save woman
    Lets save humanity

    Thanks for sharing
    10+
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  • (3/6/2009 5:09:00 PM)

    But, in the end there is a choice, isn't it? (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, March 6, 2009

Poem Edited: Sunday, March 8, 2009


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