Memory
selectively, fingers
touch the smoothness
of Apple's skin
mouth
remembers
juice
reaching
places
deep
within,
ageless
Now you.
Join me in a bit of community poetry, or prose. Post your words -- in the 'comments' or email --inspired by the photo. It could be a lark of a Friday experiment or the start of something long-lasting and unexpected. At the very least it could be simply F.U.N.
Happy First Friday of March, poets and prose-makers xo
Moki
While she sat on the throne
ReplyDeleteA tiny black ant
Wandered into the throne room
Weary and lost.
He paused on his journey
To get his bearings and some much-needed rest.
She watched as his tiny body curled.
Was he dying of thirst?
When he got his second wind,
he reared like a stallion
And raced for the wall.
Along the baseboards, halting,
then straight up the wall
To the ceiling
Defying gravity.
Using the molding as a guide
He paused turned first north then south.
then crossed the desert of dunes on ceiling.
Once over the sink,
he appeared to know the way.
As he stood at the crossroads.
She saw possible options
Vying for his attention.
The water below, poured from the spout
The hole at the junction of two moldings
A way out.
The heat from the wall lamp,
Too intense for his parched body,
He ran for cooler climes.
Which was it, she wondered?
As she watched,
He waved his antennae
in circles, in figure eights.
In that moment
she saw
Divine Intelligence at work.
She knew then that each being
Has its own ways of knowing,
Its own curiosity, its own truth.
Her new friend,
Has simple destinations:
Water, Food, Family, Home.
She left him to his travels
and bid him a fond farewell,
Grateful to have made his acquaintance.
Wishing him a safe journey.
What a grand Friday poem dear. The Ant bearing such simple destinations! So happy to have made its acquaintance. Thank you Eileen.
DeleteEileen,love this, jt
ReplyDeleteSlim sheets of paper
ReplyDeletetrapped in a cello wrapper
though blooming with more
color than most, still long
to be something, anything;
bird, turtle, star or bear, but
most of all, longing to be apple.
Oh yes! The longing. The "blooming with more color than most" oh, origami. Beautiful poet Jessie, so wonderful to read the expression from inspiration. Thank you. P.S. I too have wanderlust and wish to be driving or going south and north and east and west after a dozen years of MCS ... another poem born from your FB inspiration:)
DeleteThis is a bit of prose and poem left in my email. With permission from the writer, who was shy about 'going public' I put it here because it is so like our friend to read it. Thank you D.B. I love the prose and the poem!
ReplyDelete"There was a time I could make the cranes. Still eat apples when there is room to do so. OK Just prose. Did I tell you the only poem I have written?
I shall have to wait to brush my teeth, I think.
That's because my little cat is sitting in the sink."
D.B.