Monday, January 7, 2013

Small Potato's Offering

Lilies never welcomed me here
This jewel is for the first-rate
whose print paints compelling rainbows
of freedom, love, masterpiece, hate...

Concept is for the eventides,
who nobly sits on the mountain,
whose words embraced by the forest
to guide, to inspire, to sustain..

I am nobody at the edge
picking words fallen from the trees,
melting hours to form candied verse,
to the best might I could express.

Forgive me for taking this chance,
this one fickle finger of fate.
I'd like to tell you about greens,
how good they swayed and tuned to late...

how the nature stops evolving
for the flowering of a rose,
or spring daffodils by the pond
that spurs imagination for a prose.

And before this short chance shall wilt
like Queen of the Night in the mead
that turned to a plain, faint cactus
and lives hidden on the wearied beads.

Let me tell you about the greens,
the mystical blue butterfly,
just to inflict a little smile
and a drop of hope in your sigh.

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