I am of the wilderness —
Ancient, elemental, and spirited,
Wrought in imagination,
Borne by womb.
Secrets and silent nights.
Lions, witches, wardrobes.
Ferocious battles and forbidden loves.
All by the flickering light of a candle.
I am of curry powder —
Strong, bold, and exotic,
Passed down from generation to generation,
Treasured, cherished, and coveted.
Family gatherings and lush feasts.
Red, yellow, green.
Old stories and long-standing traditions,
All by the steady light of a lamp.
I am of porcelain —
Delicate, fragile, and stunning,
The belle of the ball,
Seen, but never heard.
Ivory skin and plaited hair.
Wispy pink tulle and soft Pointe slippers.
Demure, on the windowsill,
All by the caressing light of a sun.
I am of these things,
Shaped and molded by memories.
4 comments:
Just when I think that I have mastered the corner on poetic language...you go and one up me.
I hate you.
Ha. Not really. But you should tell me what you think of my new stuff...I have no one to bounce it off of that would tell me the truth.
Which I know you would.
Haha. Thanks :)
It was a creative writing assignment. But now I must go read yours, because I'm sure I'll be thinking the same thing as you. You're the poet here, remember?
I may be the poet but you have me beat...
Well at least we're tied.
Ha.
Love!
idea for the next verse...
I'm a pinata. Hit me with a stick and I'll give you candy.
you're welcome.
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