Like the petals of a flower ready to shrivel
at the touch
of anything but not of its own
but the flower has to bloom
the other will reach beauty and
wither away with duty
And the budding tendril waiting to
untwine from the shrivel of umbilici
will live each chapter
blossoming and
knowing its fate
to surrender to incarnation
of part and parcel
such is the mother of a daughter,
as is she to her own.
To Motherhood.
5 comments:
Hmm interesting personification.
befitting.
different from your usual stuff
wv: imarfa
i find it very interesting how your thoughts transform when you write about someone you know...about someone who's been a part of your life...or about something that has been a part of your life...
the entire tone, nature, the aura itself of your words undergoes a metamosphosis that is so vividly apparent. this one for instant is something similar to ones that you've written before...when you've written for someone whom you know...
the fictions are dark, lustful, carnal, bloodsome...i guess you go all trigger-happy when it comes to imaginary people(s) and situations ....
i loved the analogizing in this one...its very simplisticly charming!!!
:-)
PS: Good one, RIC...
But i am a little confused with the titling...
Che
Haha, my poetry and my prose are absolutely different.
I guess.
Preeti
I missed your comments, welcome back
=D
*cuddlemonsterhug*
My emotions are as evident as the words are in the poem.
The titling because, it is dedicated to motherhood and also to myself.
For someone I could be, but choose not to.
=]
hey moonbeam...
:-)
i had a backlog of 5 posts of yours and you cant imagine what an experience it was reading them one by one. because when i read the first one (the one after War) i was so stunned and despite the stunnedness i wanted more and hey---i actually had more to go...so it was a great feeling...
so im super glad to be back...:DDD
*neverendingcuddlemonsterhug* right back atcha...
hmmnn...why do you choose not to...
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