30 July 2013
This is my second attempt to write something in poetic form. I thought about writing this as I painted the attached painting.
Saved by poppies
Gently she lands in the red softness.
The sky above her as blue as infinite trust.
Her state is confused yet thoughtless.
Damp smells the soil below her recent thrust
into this colourful splendour.
Red as blood is the field of rescue and not all is as it seems.
What has happened she wondered, one minute there, the next one over here.
What were her prospects? No, memories left. She recoils
about to surrender.
Her head is pounding, tears are spilling while she quietly screams.
She lies there all still and is listening but what can she hear?
Nothing. Her mind racing, searching for something, perhaps it is choice;
she cannot remember.
Red as blood and as black as sin feels her heart, a rotten scream
departs from her lips as she feels that stickiness of lust … unreal … surreal.
Out of her mental void she jilts up wondering, who were these boys;
and where is her sweater?
Holding her belly she lowers her hand and picks up a crushed poppy … it’s not a bad dream!
Her body is aching now, she stumbles to her knees, what can she use to conceal?
Her womb coils in pain as she crawls forward searching for clothes … it’s all foils;
She needs to find shelter.
Red as blood is her rage as she fears no one will find her … she thinks in extremes
Did someone follow her? Can she steel away from this, from mental traps, and not feel?
She needs to get away fast, cannot bear to remember and avoids
all of her inner tremor.
Planning her escape is crude, pain restricts as she’s crawling across the green.
Where will she go, she’s so lost in somewhere not her home … is this field really real?
She discovers a cave, black and narrow, she slips inside eagerly where darkness joins
and cuts down her vigour.
Gently she lands in the red softness.
No sky above her only darkness with immense distrust
in her feelings, in what’s claiming her … her new fortress
And yet there is hope of an escape, a kind of wanderlust
into the depth of her mind, her soul
with the fullest intend to surrender.
~N.P.
http://www.celesteprize.com/_files/opere/2013_59553_231197.jpg
Saved by poppies
Gently she lands in the red softness.
The sky above her as blue as infinite trust.
Her state is confused yet thoughtless.
Damp smells the soil below her recent thrust
into this colourful splendour.
Red as blood is the field of rescue and not all is as it seems.
What has happened she wondered, one minute there, the next one over here.
What were her prospects? No, memories left. She recoils
about to surrender.
Her head is pounding, tears are spilling while she quietly screams.
She lies there all still and is listening but what can she hear?
Nothing. Her mind racing, searching for something, perhaps it is choice;
she cannot remember.
Red as blood and as black as sin feels her heart, a rotten scream
departs from her lips as she feels that stickiness of lust … unreal … surreal.
Out of her mental void she jilts up wondering, who were these boys;
and where is her sweater?
Holding her belly she lowers her hand and picks up a crushed poppy … it’s not a bad dream!
Her body is aching now, she stumbles to her knees, what can she use to conceal?
Her womb coils in pain as she crawls forward searching for clothes … it’s all foils;
She needs to find shelter.
Red as blood is her rage as she fears no one will find her … she thinks in extremes
Did someone follow her? Can she steel away from this, from mental traps, and not feel?
She needs to get away fast, cannot bear to remember and avoids
all of her inner tremor.
Planning her escape is crude, pain restricts as she’s crawling across the green.
Where will she go, she’s so lost in somewhere not her home … is this field really real?
She discovers a cave, black and narrow, she slips inside eagerly where darkness joins
and cuts down her vigour.
Gently she lands in the red softness.
No sky above her only darkness with immense distrust
in her feelings, in what’s claiming her … her new fortress
And yet there is hope of an escape, a kind of wanderlust
into the depth of her mind, her soul
with the fullest intend to surrender.
~N.P.
http://www.celesteprize.com/_files/opere/2013_59553_231197.jpg
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