She was pretty
Her hips sway as she laughs
the way leaves flicker
when baby clouds squeal light
She is noble
the way dawn brays oranges
through jiggling mountain streams
I watch her every dusk as she sways down to me
when I feed the ducks
the way she used to tear them bread
I love them everyday
and sing to them even in rain
When I play my cedar flute
they churn so ardently
and wrens in trees ruffle and nod
like the way she used to kiss me and bumble bees are
She is pretty
A contest entry
- The Consistency of Change by JM Kenyon.
600 points, ended August 15, 2008, 10 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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This is beautiful.
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Awesome
This poem was so cool. The words you used just made the poem flow so beautifully and had wonderful, powerful imagery. It was definitely full of deep meaning, and you deserved none less than the gold
Congratulations on winning gold!
Love, Peace, and Zen always,
~*~Zenity -
I probably got something completely different from this write, but it has made me think more deeply than any other. Of course, it is taking me awhile to comment, because I'm having a hard time trying to get my thoughts into words
I'll try anyway... I started thinking that this seemed a poem of youthful romance, when physical attraction is a very powerful factor in whether or not a ocuple is compatible...
and I thought, should sudden change end that romance suddenly... it would undoubtably change the course of memories as well, would it not?
Because if the love between two people was never allowed to endure natural changes... yet left an unsatisfied emotional void... then perhaps memories are stored, unchanged to fill that void...
So... as I thought longer... I thought, what if memories were not altered by change, if time progressed the relationship, the romance, the physical attributes of both... would the memory still have the same content?
Of course, I have my own conclusion as well...lol... I believe that if I progressed the scenerio, without having death throw a hatchet in there... the image and emotion would no loner be the same. Progressed, she could become a martyr or a she-devil depending on the influence of changes during a lifetime... but because change played a card, no change in perceptions could occur...
Whether I am a universe off from thei ntended point of this write or not, it has gain my admiration because of how much thought it induced. As always, I love poetry that gives me something to think about for more than a passing moment. For that reason, this poem will be memorable to me long after I close this window, which makes it inspiring as well.
So, with all that non-sensical babble said I'll say only one more thing... I love this poem!!!!
S an dbest wishes always... ~Genie~
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again your use of nature is superb-well done a wonderful, descriptive poem.
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ah the ducks, as always such a serene experience, perhaps it is the collective experience that gives things beauty, a face alone is only so much, but in context, among what brings out the life in things, it can be so much more
she is pretty, because this world allows her to be
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Enchanted!
What a lovely reflection of all things
wonderful and inoncent. My friend you're
an expert of imagery. you paint brilliant
images on the canvas of the heart with
your brush strokes of creativity and love.
Nicely written
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