Poem By Ernestine Northover
I observed you from across the room
Smiling in your supercilious way,
Demanding attention from all around you.
You had to be the centre of attraction, as usual,
Oblivious of how you demeaned other people.
Your only thought was to 'glow' like a 100 watt light bulb,
Casting everyone else into the shadows.
You are not real, really are you,
Just a 'body' honed to perfection,
A robot, reacting to signals from your brain,
To charm, to show off and pose.
Suppose it all came to an end,
And you shrivelled and disintegrated into a pool of liquid
Or a pile of ash,
A bit like a 'Toon' from 'Roger Rabbit'
Melting perhaps into the ground,
Or being blown away by the wind.
What a realization that would be,
All your glamour gone.
I studied you from across the room and I realised
You were just an 'image' that is all,
Flashed on a screen or in a graphic art print,
No substance, no, not at all,
Just a 'picture' easily scooped up and crumpled in my hand.
Somehow it made me fell superior to you,
You could no longer influence my brain, or demoralise me.
I felt I was in command of myself, once more.
© Ernestine Northover