Lips
honeysuckled.
Fingers tipped
with trumpet vine.
A pretty rock
mine and secret
as the language of the fireflies.
4 o'clocks
slowly pursing
purple petals
to a kiss.
I'm brown and barefoot;
pasture princess
of all of this.
For Ella's prompt at Real Toads
Thursday, July 9, 2015
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About Me
- Maude Lynn
- Anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information about life to last him the rest of his days. ---Flannery O'Connor
18 comments:
Excellent write :D
So gorgeous! You AND the poem. I just adore you. I wish you could pop out like ten poems a day. ;)
You are, you are, you are. I adore this, Kelli.
Sweet, lush and gorgeous, loved this.
This is so YOU and partly so me. I love it.
I totally agree with all the others!! Awesome as always and I do love it! Have a great weekend!!
"Pasture princess of all of this"....glorious! Yes, you are!
Super pretty poem, MZ. A wonderful synchronicity of people and plant. Thanks for the lovely energy there. k.
This is magical-every word inspires and makes me smile!
Thank you, Mama Zen or is your real name Pasture princess?!
To lose oneself in nature and find oneself again is a definite necessity.
So you've been a cowgirl for about 18,000 years. Clovis girl on the half-shell. Pure and all yours.
... color me awe-struck.
'secret as the language of the fireflies..' that is just perfect. As always, your images cut to the bone of things, living and breathing on the page.
Your poems always create a reaction... this is so sweetly beautiful - and Mama Zen clever.
Ah yes, you must be...
purple poesy at its finest ~
glad i caught this one as i'm back at my computer this weekend. "mine and secret, a pretty rock." sigh. i'm going to now catch up on the rest of your stuff on a binge read. thanks for the wonderful write.
Powerful alliteration in the second stanza. Love it.
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