for Elizabeth:my sister, who knows.
erelong our buds will blossom into buttercups.
erelong our buds will blossom into buttercups.
life's too short for me not to say that
i...well, doihavetosay? won't this poem do? 'cause the
zealots with their branding rods have
anchored us together, like the extra A between your names,
but brazen, you dare not drown. you say, think quick, for
even as our lives are taken out of context,
there is still a literary chance - we
have yet to be mollified in Flanders
there is still a literary chance - we
have yet to be mollified in Flanders
now, i see that some days
are far worse off than others,
are far worse off than others,
but if disaster strikes on monday
would we leave our A's behind
two Gretels grasping for breadcrumbs
on the other side of the week?
would we leave our A's behind
two Gretels grasping for breadcrumbs
on the other side of the week?
now i feel that when we speak
our zaftig shapes sway to the beat of
dangerously different drummers
even our discord is divine
just know that i too taste it,
our friendship bitter-sweet
and while you've never seen me weep,
during nights of fitful sleep
i hear your whispers - how they
tranquilise and fortify me...
saying shh, just listen: you and i?
our zaftig shapes sway to the beat of
dangerously different drummers
even our discord is divine
just know that i too taste it,
our friendship bitter-sweet
and while you've never seen me weep,
during nights of fitful sleep
i hear your whispers - how they
tranquilise and fortify me...
saying shh, just listen: you and i?
we're just a couple of fellows:
fellow, "don't you know each other?"
same glasses, different mothers
fellow black, up-and-coming
twenty-somethings. my fellow,
"you look like a fella, girl!"
we take fellow clumsy steps,
unstable we fall feeble over fabled
unstable we fall feeble over fabled
fields filled with
flourishing blossoms
flourishing blossoms
and buttercups.
yet brazen, we dare not drown.
yet brazen, we dare not drown.
4 comments:
I like this poem. I am also fighting the urge to type out a [colon capital 'd']
I notice that in the first stanza the Buttercup comes out from a Blossom. But in the final stanza the speaker and the person being addressed, weakened by the pressure, fall into a 'fabled' place where Blossoms and Buttercups are two separate yet equal blooms. I love this poem.
p.s. I see it. :-]
Which?? Your name spelled out like in the last, or the Moll Flanders-type reference? I suppose I gave both away, but there are many treasures...
PS no ":D" but a ":-]"? My, you are a woman of principle.
Both.
P.s. I have some self control. Can't just leave the 'd' all open, there is more decorum in a closed bracket.
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