Alexander Averin

Monday, 7 March 2011

Her New Beau

A chameleon does not leave one tree until he is sure of another

Arabian Proverb

Her New Beau

Sometimes she wonders if it is kind to keep him in a jar
as he surely has a brain,
a rarity in these no-brain  parts.
She has always attracted these reptilian males
but this one popped up spilling culture
from his wide, reptilian mouth.
He is, after all, a Guardian reader,
a slow and gently creeping thing, ophidian
and his eyes are not too bulgy,
a rarity in these bulging-eye infested parts.
An intellectual reptile, both hard to say and to believe,
he will readily cosy up and chat to old ladies
who are shrivelled up and just as unattractive as he
but they do say affinity breeds kind deeds.
His warm, slow breath is always light;
no wild, Welsh dragon, heavy-breather of the fire is he
(and between you and me there are far too many of those
 in these heavy-breathing parts).
He cuts quite the fine dash in his suit of green
and his wrap-around vermilion scarf
and she is secretly charmed by his un-croaky
but not quite tipping-into-velvet voice.
They both want the same things from life:
warmth, enough food, drink in moderation
and plenty of loving attention.
She hopes this one will not be another chameleon
but still she wonders,
is it really kind to keep him in a jar?

Cait O’Connor


Norma Murray said...

I love this poem Cait, it made me smile and stop to think in equal measures. (And between you and me, that's far from frequent in these time rushed parts)

Frances said...

Cait, I am going to be thinking about this poem all day. I love its friendliness, its wisdom, its rhythm, its way of gradually telling a story that many of us know.


Vee said...

Many layers to this one, Cait. I enjoyed reading it.

I also enjoyed reading the former poem. In fact, it made me think so much, I may have blown a fuse.

Pamela Terry and Edward said...

Fabulous Cait!
I loved this.

Fennie said...

Certainly made me think of how we change our colours more often than the poor old chameleon - which me makes me think of a camel called Leon or, if you reverse it something Christmassy called Le Mac. Which is French; well, so is Leon, or Léon if you prefer, whereas Noel is as British as Coward. So there you have it, or not as the case may be. Chameleons are slippery creatures, especially if they are Guardian readers. I wouldn't trust them. Traffic lights on legs. Goodness! Or do they see only in monochrome? Like dogs and bulls?

Mark said...

That's a nice poem. I like the repetition of she and he and wonder if you might make more of that - you might start the first line with she too by reversing the first two words? Sorry getting technical - they ought to keep me in jar!

Marion Williams-Bennett said...

"She hopes this one will not be another chameleon"

Ah, we can always hope.
Beautiful writing - all of it.

CAMILLA said...

Such a lovely Poem Cait, thank you.


Cottage Garden said...

Cait, I adore your poetry!


Dave King said...

A warm and beautiful poem. Does one good to read it.

Regina said...

hi cait,
thanks for visiting my blog!
wonderful poem!!
have a wonderful day,

Debs Carr said...

I loved this poem.

I've held a chameleon once, fabulous little creature.