In a moment of wisdom taking bed with irrational rules a novella takes form, watered by the caress of a willow, bending to drink from rippling lips, then offering experiences beyond the bounds of the mind. To transform a dying minnow into a river goddess, well rested from nature’s contentions, and to sing, heart beating the beat, eyes seeking the eyes that say, “We are different.”
Death has its influence, but we shall make life beautiful outside the Cathedral’s colored glass, beyond the fence and flowerpots, and into the fields where grapes are pressed.
Now I pause while the bitter taste of existence passes by in sour notes being smoked by miserable people dressed in rotten melons. I shake my head at what they are doing with their fortunate lives…
A contest entry
- prose by Melissa Gayle.
300 points, ended April 19, 2008, 6 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Your second stanza is just perfect, I know that it is the shortest but it has hit me more personally and I can really appreciate that.
And your ending, it is too true.
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If you were Mt. Everest I'd climb you just to read this! that's how good this is!!!! no I don't mean good I mean GREAT! What isn't to love about this? nothing!
you've got to have a gold comming for this!
laurie
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LMAO
okay too sick to make this one work in my head. But I do say, rotten melons?? damnit...best of luck to you.
Love
Passions
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Oh, those melons, yes, I thought that metaphor would stick in the reader's head- either as the worse metaphor they ever read, or something to ponder! Maybe 'rotten melon rinds' or 'rotten melon shells'... nah!
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