Creative Writing Saturday

The Beautiful Changes

One wading a Fall meadow finds on all sides
The Queen Anne’s Lace lying like lilies
On water; it glides
So from the walker, it turns
Dry grass to a lake, as the slightest shade of you
Valleys my mind in fabulous blue Lucernes.

The beautiful changes as a forest is changed
By a chameleon’s tuning his skin to it;
As a mantis, arranged
On a green leaf, grows
Into it, makes the leaf leafier, and proves
Any greenness is deeper than anyone knows.

Your hands hold roses always in a way that says
They are not only yours; the beautiful changes
In such kind ways,
Wishing ever to sunder
Things and things’ selves for a second finding, to lose
For a moment all that it touches back to wonder. ~ Richard Wilbur

Creative Writing Saturday

Flagler Beach

Flagler Beach (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Portrait at 2

She loved the infinite archeology of a beach. Also, the precise, triangle snap that accompanied
the opening of a carton of orange juice. If she’d had the words, she’d describe
the specific smell of her grandmother’s garage, or the shade of red
her lipstick was, or the name of the broken shape it left on a square of Kleenex,
or how the sound “No” leveled her to the bone, and how the best she could do was let her eyes run empty, crush her skin against the door, and flee the room in rebellion.
Now, of course, she is brimming with synonym and metaphor, articulating shadows
from each crack in the sidewalk, raking through the mulch of language that lives in everything.
And yet, even with this arsenal, she sees the photograph, portrait at 2, of a girl armed simply
with touch, passing fingers through grains of Florida sand, memorizing every one of its stories.

~ Maya Stein

Blessings, Lydia

All Will Be Well, ~ Julian of Norwich

Enhanced by Zemanta



Where is she?
I can barely feel her,
But in my mind’s eye,
I see her clearly.
She, the fearless, strong, determined one who has been instrumental in meeting all my life’s goals and achievements.
She stands tall, her eyes facing forward, her shoulders squared, with her hands placed on her hips in that sassy, ‘move out of my way’ manner of hers.
She is who I want to be.
She opens her arms wide and says, “Come back. I’ve never left you.”
I realize that she is me, and I am her, and
she has been here all along.
Longing for us to be together once again.

by LKW