Tuesday, November 30, 2010

2 poems

by regina osgood stapledon

pictures by rhoda penmarq


the universe is a fading rose
trembling on ballerina toes
plucked by invisible hands
and tossed upon windswept sands

the sands are our immortal souls
disappearing down black holes
never to be seen again
until the dreamer wakes - o when?

when will the sun return?
when will the tower burn?
when will the trees walk?
when will the grass talk?

when will wise men climb down from the walls
and listen to the rain as it falls
washing away their prophecies
like dandelions laughing in the breeze?


the flower

after the storm of passion -
after the rainfall of lust -
the solitary flower
stands still in the shiny dust

the smirking sun is rising -
clenching its fiery fist
the flower can only await its fate
unable to turn or twist

the tiniest bug can scamper away
the smallest bird find shade
the flower can only await its fate
an unchaperoned maid



human being said...

hmmm... even god himself couldn't be such a fatalist!
is this regina trying to tell something to crow?

crow thinks this new god should have at least three eyes while it's got just one... half opened...

but who can deny the beauty of expression here... both in words and pictures...

Old 333 said...

Yes, nicely done regina and rhoda - I'll never look at a flower the same. helpless temptress, made of velvet and pollen and paint - what a fate!

Thanks for the poems.