The tin voice announced the place
as we pulled into the station.
I, soon to have my ears syringed,
thought it said "Ladies and gentlemen:
Marilyn Monroe."
I half expected to see her
sashaying down the aisle 
of the train,
all shimmering platinum
between plush, navy blue seats.
Wouldn't that have been a sight 
for a Thursday morning?
Not only a Hollywood star,
but fifty-five years dead to boot.





34 thoughts on “Mytholmroyd 

  1. Reblogged this on Annas Art – FärgaregårdsAnna and commented:
    Andy at City Jackdaw has a new blog. His poems in some lovely posts so far. I pressed follow. Please visit original post to follow and leave comments if you like what you read. This is the poem Andy Murray and he is as good at poems as the tennis Andy Murray is at tennis. I say happy blogging to Andy/Anna

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Pingback: Mytholmroyd  – MY_YOGA_BLOG

  3. I love those moments when all you do is just look around almost bored, nothing else to do and a peace of poetry comes out of your head. No technology’s needed. That’s pure art.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. So much fun to read and so familiar; wonderful that you this caught a moment’s misapprehension and turned into an image of a screen goddess, herself so much misunderstood…

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Pingback: Mytholmroyd  — Coronets For Ghosts – musnadjia423wordpress

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