Kindled Spirit

Poem By Scarborough Gypsy

This one's a real scorcher
A flaming true one too
The subject – my 'hot' sister
And the things she likes to do
She is of pale complexion
With a mop of ginger hair
Spray painted face of freckles
The fairest of the fair
With a burning bronze desire
To achieve a glowing tan
Change her skin from white to brown
Her ultimate new plan
She started on the baking
By basking in the sun
Forgot to check the cooking time
Which baked her over done
Next choice – a solarium
Which did the job quite well
But stewed it with a sun ray lamp
Igniting body swell
The chemist next was where she bought
A natural tanning cream
Caused streaky staining of her skin
Of rashers tangerine
But has she burnt her lesson yet
Hardly, I would say
I found her stir-fried in the wok
Just the other day
Contortion blows the microwave
Squeezing inflames the toaster
The oven is a better fit
Which helps to even roast her
Rotating on an open spit
Daily exercise
Sizzle, crackle, pop she goes
While she deep fat fries
The kitchen wouldn’t be the same
Without her tanning devices
Incineration causes ash
Amongst the herbs and spices
Smoulderingly pretty underneath
My searing kindling sister
But at the moment you could say
She’s one big walking blister.

1985 - An almost true story.

Comments about Kindled Spirit

very colourful writing, lots of variety and exuberance, good job.
I am thankful that I never became addicted to roasted Scarlett, maybe because our Southern Sun is way hot. But I certainly see the humor (and danger) of roasted Sister. Keep it up, because I love to laugh. Scarlett
Very funny and clever - reminded me of my sister, Blanka, one summer. She has since become wiser - the fear of skin cancer I suspect. avr
great poem, got every thing that I love humor (first degree) I have a forty two year old son, who is a bricklayer and a Sun God. Ccheers sylvia 10+
What a wonderfully amusing poem! Congratulations! I just love it and gaveyou a 10.

Rating Card

4,4 out of 5
7 total ratings

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She’s thirsty for answers
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a museum full of memories
bursting at the seams,

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I lay awake in my bed
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Am so afraid of how you feel
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Chills me to the bone
Our whole existence is on shaky ground

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This empty feeling is the cost
Of many regrets and dreams I’ve tossed
Onto the heap of mental compost,