Yard Sale of Thoughts

It was the wish of every girl to be beautiful,
but not overtly so. 

With pink cheeks, but not to rival rose.
With silky hair, but not with too much flow.

Do not draw attention,
nor turn too many heads,
nor visit too many beds of mention,

for every girl over thirteen
was susceptible to the Mistress's wrath.

With scythe in hand she’d scour the streets
looking for someone precious to snatch.

“My little sweets,” she’d call them,
and you’d be wrong to laugh.

For if your pride makes fiery glow,
she’ll chop off your upper half.

Tie you to the nearest naked pole
and set voyage with your soul as mast.

Uncovered bosoms scare the storms.

"Lead the way!" she'd say, going on, and on.
“Beauty must be cast!”

Daughters scream ‘til they bled their last.
Folks gather ‘round to witness the bloodbath.

Beauty in an iron bath, 
preserved upon the waves.

So girls do little primping 
and try your best to behave
or else all hopes abort,
slaves to seafaring ways. 

©2025|K.F.Hartless

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GloPoWriMo#13: My second attempt at ekphrasitic verse inspired by the works of Swiss painter Carlos Schwabe. Happy Sunday!