The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
FROM mindlove misery the intriguing suggestion that we use as inspiration a song from the decade of our birth. For me that's the thirt...
A Birthday in April ~ Wordsworth Prompt from The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (The first of three posts which will celebrate the l...
Hello everyone who follows David King (My Father). On behalf of the family this post is to let you know that Dad sadly passed away, peacefu...
Sunday 24 February 2013
Dark hair a ball of wool
even with a slight unravelling
its waves hang on
to what might be
a coracle, a
small black pill box hat,
tipped, not jauntily --
behind the head.
Framed by the waves
the shocked complexion
is more felt than seen.
is a work in progress still.
The eyes stare straight ahead.
Only the mouth speaks clearly of
All else about her
seems too spare.
Written for the prompt by Kelvin S. M. Artistic Description at dVerse Poets Pub
Unable to post tomorrow due to forces almost beyond my control(!), so hope to meet up with you all again come Tuesday.