A Veronica Lake moon hung in the sky above the city of broken joys and misfit boys: peek-a-boo, blonde and intoxicating. by Heather Babcock, 2022
1979 The two of us We were born in the Me-decade's twilight When all of the great dames - The silent sirens, the film noir beauties - Were dying off. by Heather Babcock, 2022
Big Boobs (a poem by Heather Babcock)
The lioness Bares Miraculous breasts Old men Fan themselves, Tweet out for Smelling salts. Ripe and juicy Pulchritude - It's a little too much For these boobs.Continue reading “Big Boobs (A Poem & A Rant)”
The Parade’s Gone By
Miss Desmond, your boy was right:
The parade’s gone by,
I heard it’s moved online –
A nice place to visit but
I sure as hell don’t want to live
Where I can only touch
What I cannot feel.
“We didn’t need dialogue. We had faces!” you cried,
But Norma, now that’s all we got:
Talking heads, ephemeral shadows
Locked behind a screen
And I can’t get a connection.
Yes Miss Desmond, the parade has indeed passed us by;
It’s been a week but I can still hear the stomping of the boots in my ears,
My hope waving good-bye to a tardy Santa Claus,
I am forbidden to touch.
– Heather Babcock, March 2020
Note: This is not a political poem. I wrote this Sunday morning as a way to work through the anxiety and fear that I have been experiencing due to the Covid-19 shutdowns. I thought that Norma Desmond – the fictional silent film star from Sunset Boulevard (1950), a woman who is described by her younger lover as “waving to a parade that had long passed her by”- was a good symbol for the way that I am feeling right now. The difference is that Norma mourned the passing of silence while I miss the noise.
So very much. ❤
I was a teenage waitress
Slinging hash and slugging mugs
In a diner where the customers
Were fresher than the grub!
(Micro poem by Heather Babcock. Based on a true story! ;-))