Photo by Cyndy
______________________
Why can't I see you more clearly?
The traces of your beauty astound me.
Your brilliance outshines all else.
Wait, let me get closer to you.
Your fragrance intoxicates me.
...and I am reminded of our early love.
~ Denise ~
One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.
10 comments:
Spring morn
Early dew caught
By sapphire, ruby
Bowls, glimmering jewels of April.
Tulips.
My fingers searched
that softest petal
hugging a bud of beauty.
My heart emptied
for nature's fuel
filling my dried pen.
My mind attempted
to climb inside
the tulip's perfection.
Do I have to write a poem?
These tulops are lovely.
I'd like them in my home : )
@ Kaishon... I like your non-poem question poem. But no, you never have to write to the prompt.
All prompts beneath the photos are only suggestions.
You are free to use the photo to be inspired to write any way you desire.
Why can't I see you more clearly?
The traces of your beauty astound me.
Your brilliance outshines all else.
Wait, let me get closer to you.
Your fragrance intoxicates me.
...and I am reminded of our early love.
Flowers are all the same to me. Beautiful, yes, but all the same. Their colors are enchanting and their scent, well, some smell okay.
I'm accustomed to dead flowers in vases. My mother killed flowers as did her mother before her. We're just not flower people. We're oblivious, wrapped in our own lives. We can't keep something alive unless it's crying or biting at our pant leg. In fact, mom always told me never to get her flowers for Mother's Day. "I would only murder them," she said.
Sometimes I'll bring home centerpieces from events, and they'll sit in a vase for a day or two, and be in the garbage by the third.
Once they were tulips, I think? Yes, they were. Tulips are unusual, they seem to not have blossomed yet, their petals like a closed fist. They were beautiful...but then they came to live with me.
It's hard to admit that I'm not a flower person. I feel I would get gasps if I told people, like the gasps I let out when I hear that someone's not a puppy person.
tulips
memories
forever
septembermom - "hugging a bud of beauty"! I love it!
All I remember is that it was red with black shutters. And I remember standing out front with dad, on our way to the swings with sand under them, and asking what the flowers in front were. "Tulips," he said slowly, while pointing to his lips, which were hidden by his beard. And I remember the book with the rooster, that I would read to mom and dad to get them out of bed. I remember when they brought my brother home, and his yellow hands and tiny body scared our babysitter away. That's all I remember about that house: the tulips.
Green ground sprouts up
Stretching into the air
Pointing upward
Thrusting colors shoot
Yellow and pink lips
Open and kiss the sky
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