Your delicate creases remind me of the swirls on a nautilus that I saw in the aquarium the other day. I unravel them, slowly and carefully, wondering how symmetric you are, each sum of the parts being the same shape as the whole. If you had wings and could flutter in the air, I wonder what a handsome snitch you would make. And if you could float on water, your zesty copper color would complement the pure whiteness of water lilies.
However, in return for my ode to your beauty, you make me cry. Angered, I slice open your heart.
11 comments:
Such is the drama found in the seemingly mundane. I know of no one else who can make poetry out of prose (and apparently, a kitchen countertop).
@jayen..:) made me feel good and smile, this comment.
That seems me so creative. When ever I did this practice comes a nice poem as a result product.
eye lift
your first apparently violent prose :) Way to go... London did this to you?
@ Banjo.. Haha.. No. My other violent proses just didn't make it to my blog :D
brilliant! of all the "peaceful events taking a sharp turn to a violent end" this one beats 'em all! :D
@ CJ.. Tee hee! thanks :) you make it sound like a murder mystery starring vegetables :D
Heaven in an onion :)
@ Gnu..I just sliced heaven into two then :)
This is found in the seemingly ordinary drama. As far as I know, no one else who can make the prose poetry of.
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