bright smears of
sweet scented notions
original hopes
swaddled tightly in buds
fearlessly burst forth
enticing fragrance of youth to
lure the brightest pollinators
joining in scenes of original sin
leading to fruitful conception
lusciously juicy fertile
thought becomes reality as
flowers to fruits to
seeds far flung
propagation seems unending
reveling in beauty of creation
until
work devours life
among deadened ends
joyous blossoms fade
edges tinged umber
slippery underfoot blown in
winds footfalls bruise
swept in gutters
washed away by grey rains
beauty's seeds obliterated as
routine creeps under the peel
skins rot thoughts age bodies fade to
scattered dreams crushed needlessly
beckoning death's approach
unabated
unless
tender waters poured
gently over neglected ideas
encourage wasted tendrils to
sprout timidly
soon to flourish as
yielding youth's ignorance
confidence returns
experience
coaxes desire to
regrow with intelligence
revealing attractions
sacred and profane to
germinate fresh love of life
fully relished until
last blossoms
drop
(Solange Noir 2011)
So true about the creative process and that it needs to be tended to like a garden, watering and growing. :)
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing your thoughts and words with us.
I was inspired by the many old friends I have that let their dreams die. Some did so out of responsibilities taken on, but many seem to because of age. I feel it doesn't have to be that way...
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome! Thanks so much for reading and commenting, Berit :)
Nice progression of thoughts. It gives me hope. We have to remember that when things look down, they usually look up again later. Though we are getting older, we still are bursting with creativity. Yes to eternal springtime!
ReplyDeleteThanks for this.
This is so beautiful. And I vow to at least work to be an unless for the rest of my days. It is hard, but worth it in the end. I hope.
ReplyDeleteOh my....
ReplyDeleteThank you all so much. That the three of you like it means more than I can say. xx
ReplyDelete