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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: The Flower Queendots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: VanillaLeaves
    Elite Ratio:    4.1 - 101/110/23
    Words: 264
    Class/Type: Poetry/Nostalgia
    Total Views: 761
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1930



    Description:
       childhooed memories turned almost creep I suppose.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsThe Flower Queendots
    -------------------------------------------


    Sometimes She slipped
    or slid her questing stems
    beneath my sister&#8217;s skin.
    I knew the change was afoot
    when my sister
    took off her patent leather shoes
    and crept down to the brook.

    I would stand behind her,
    my cheek imbedded in the mossy
    waist coat of an old oak,
    as she lowered her sleek shoes
    past the miniature
    gardens of maple seedlings
    taking root on the muddy rocks,
    into the sun warmed water.
    I would watch as the shoes
    grew patent leather scales
    and obsidian black tails
    before they swam away.

    When She planted herself
    behind my sister&#8217;s eyes,
    my sister&#8217;s speech bloomed.
    With each word
    the rhododendron flowers,
    woven out of the pale pink
    river mist, stored from morning,
    floated off her tongue.
    A single sentence
    changed the dusty avenues
    of tattered azaleas and dandelions
    in the backyard garden
    into corridors of emerald mystery.

    I was told stories
    and believed each translucent morsel
    of home grown fantasy
    She dropped in my mouth.
    The stories were new,
    tightly clenched forsythia buds
    that blossomed long after the hearing,
    or ripe petunia red currant tales
    that clung to tongue and mind,
    but were quickly forgotten.

    Sometimes in the height
    of those leafy fabrications,
    She would blow out of my sister
    and join the brown tangles
    of wind born oak pollen.
    My sister would sit,
    momentarily puzzled,
    drumming grass stained fingers
    on the formerly gilded rock throne.
    Then, glancing at the shoes
    lying at the brook bottom
    or flapping listlessly on the shore,
    she would laugh.




    Submitted on 2005-06-16 12:20:54     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!




    ||| Comments |||
      Wow...this is so different from anything I've ever read before. But the description is absolutely mind-boggling.
    "A single sentence
    changed the dusty avenues
    of tattered azaleas and dandelions
    in the backyard garden
    into corridors of emerald mystery."
    I love these lines. I'm just sitting here reading that over and over again. I can picture it so clearly! I like reading poetry that's outside the typical...keep it up!
    ~Jen~
    | Posted on 2005-06-16 00:00:00 | by Jengrr | [ Reply to This ]
      Excellent, as usual.
    I'm supposing the "she" is the goddess of puberty?
    and I much like the shoes floating away (I got the innocence of chilhood growing the scales and hardness of age and floating away)
    and your on-going floral descriptions.It's a pity your apostrophes came out like they did, I don't knw how to fix it, try editing it, maybe if you've pasted it from anothert program, the editor doesn't like it, cos it's html code.

    I tried to find some improvements, but failed, like I said at the start, excellent!

    Be Happy

    Graeme
    | Posted on 2005-06-16 00:00:00 | by wewak11 | [ Reply to This ]
      I have discovered several writers lately who foster my own love of nature, but in unique ways. This, about your sister, and her shoes as they morph in the folds of water and leaves to reveal exactly who she is... the eve in disguise as every one of us is a goddess in lower case. I love the almost psychedelic images moving inside my head (your own imagination wild- child gone over the edge)
    and still you remember how it all seemed to you at the time.
    You record the experience with great clarity and share it with us.
    Great job, thanks so much.
    peace and love,
    Nan
    | Posted on 2005-06-18 00:00:00 | by nansofast | [ Reply to This ]
      A single sentence
    changed the dusty avenues
    of tattered azaelas and dandelions
    in the backyard garden
    into corridors of emerald mystery...

    that is just gorgeous.. weaving of stories and you bring all beauty to this one. i can taste the red currant, feel the moss and oak... see the shoes.. all of it! thank you for the sensations..

    i love the laughter at the end.. priceless precious.

    @ peace&joy @
    !Cat
    | Posted on 2005-06-18 00:00:00 | by magnicat | [ Reply to This ]


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