this is the poem I wrote
when I was trying to write
a poem; if it’s a poem at all
it’s got strength in it
and love, lust and affection
it’s got lush green trees
and red soil, it’s got
highways and field paths
and birds and nests
it’s got rain puddles
sun shiny queens
and a verandah with a rocking chair
I feel thunder
The one I wrote yesteryear
had secrets of sleuths
and foreign hotels
it had strings and biting off tags
and sins, rages, jealousy
it had speeding cars
and swinging lights
bitten nails and fear
it had torn down fences
and a trickle down a chilled glass
~lily
2 comments:
you swing loose, and i love your red soils...
always love your words, lily...
the mountain i live at the base of, is made from red soil, a great big mound of rich red soil.. the farmers and flower growers love it, because they can take and take from it, and not put anything back in.. it's sorta magic..
reminds me of some people.. many people actually.. fucken take take suck drain take so they can live .. vampiric really.. lol
i just want to sit in a rocking chair, with a view..
oh to be a tree... or a bird..
anywayz, gone on long enough....
thaaaaaanks Childe, for being here, being you..
peace
~lily
xox
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