103 Suspended in evolution

Floating in the light years

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Prehistory’s future.
The primeval lily of willow woods,
A climber rising from darkened forests,
Ambitious to see the sun, but always yearning shade.

Papery petals in white
With cool smooth touch,
Romantic, aspiring to feel the waxing moon
But shy, scentless, skinny, with appearance of complicity

The doomed bloom
Remained unchanged. An eternity of primitive simplicity.
With its white face softer than light in High Summer duskings
It brings the day’s end with a glowing translucence and backlit canvas.

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A screen of shadow play.
Transparent truth and illuminations
Stirring shadows of nearby neighbours,
Infatuated with self, they send an echo of love to stir the stamen’s trust.

But modern branches bend and crack;
Under the subtle watch of the crawling vine
A china sky will fragment between the spinal twists of wood,
As Convolvulus Cneorum imprints its memories of forsaken eons with no regret.

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© 2015 La Floralie


101 When the backbones of Julius burn the waters, to brittle with thickened blood

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July does not freeze the pain of passing beauty

Nor the hopeful future of greening youth

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They both reach a new destiny.

For those whose breath completes the height of a summer

There is esprit.

Blessed with no desires

There is no pain.

Complete waterlessness awaits.

There is no pain

Complete waterlessness awaits.

And we will float and float and float.

© 2015 La Floralie


79 Flora’s Terra Firma Manicura

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In Spring’s wake, we feel the breeze.                                                                                                       Our Flora’s Palm Parlour opens for ‘green fingering’:

                                  “To seek, to search, to deeply dig and surface skim and tap the rain.                                                To smooth the journey of a beckoning birth in slow motion foliation”.

Dedicated to the earthiest verdant pleasures;
Feelers for finest root reform, we refresh the cellular.
After a light finger dirt service, a microbe’s relaxation will newly mold the clay.           So, to play a seed’s and stem’s pleasure, the chorophyll tipped masseuse awaits;

Creeping to clutch its remaining decay, Winter whispers,                                                       “Members of the Hand: Trail Utopia’s loams towards its throat, as if to strangle…”
But Old Equinox slips quickly through the fist,                                                                             Tipping inwards, Breath returns and the Common Senses heighten.

Only green palm tips can twist the wind, caress the air or grip a wall,
And command March’s slumbered to “Rise with Silence.”                                                       “For, ’tis blue skies and blossom’ time to touch our land with brand new light.”

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© 2015 La Floralie 2015


Day 8

The WordPress Poetry challenge continued, but I have been too slow in writing for it last week, as assonance gave me a much greater appreciation of the very varied pronounciations of especially vowels, within the English language. A very good learning curve. Now I really do appreciate how foreigners learn its complexities .

The Form – Prose

The Inspiration – Fingers

The Device – Assonance

The photos were taken 5 and 10 March 2015, in Stourbridge, outside the gym, and Brighton UK walking to the station in the early sunshine, for which there is nothing like it to start the day.


 

75 Quiet Heroes Quiet

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Quiet heroes quiet

Quiet thoughts of heroes, of crown for country.  Simple roads, simple fields.                           Moments standstill.

“STAND STILL! Young soldiers with hearts red!” Hearts red with emotion,                               Dewdrop in fields, to order to time.

“Time did not age them”. 100 years, Mortality would drift, Slow, slow quick, quick,                       Slow, above and over Courage.

Courage, “Exemplary behaviour”  Bodyless. Energy waxes empty                                                         For a century, fields quiver en passant.       

Passing progress screeched halt. To one hundred years;                                                                                                                  Shake the breath!”                                                                                                                                                           “SHOOT THE STEMS!”                                                                                                                           “Grasp hard those petals red!”   

Red’s intense romance of cardinal excite. Plasma’s passions for Modernity                         Unchanging. Hero ducks, head down to march upwards into quiet.


© 2015 La Floralie

Day 6 Inspiration was WordPress  Poetry Challenge which had to follow: Theme – Heroes/Heroine Form – Ballad

Device – Anaphora “simply means the repetition of the same word (or cluster of words) at the beginning of multiple lines of verse in the same poem.”

Epistrophe “is its counterpart: the repeated words appear at the end of lines.”

74 The Meanderthal

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Anaesthesia lives the eons as an Unawaked. A birthless lamentation.

No strands of biology to wire a breath.  Memories, a blank odyssey.

In state, a floating, faceless emoticon wrasps of Nature’s joys.

“..dull, dull, dull, yes, yes, yes…”

The meanderthal, who stirs the atmosphere in vapoury voyage,

Where bloodless drift shifts space to chaos – is Anaesthesia.

Her unperfumed bouquets deconstruct the woods in hush 

As steeliest moleculars crumble to particularate white.

Airy whisperings can whisk the ozone thick to standstill delusion.

The Milkshake Mutterer, with her hoary small talk creates.

Her favourite flavour in truest imperceptibilty. 

Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothingness.

“Nothingness is lux, is nothingness”.  Anaesthesia’s absolute power.

‘Nothing Ventured’, the snowfluff flotilla of still passage descends.

As Lux smothers tree seedling youth into lightless hiatus.

Nothingness’  a breathless tomb pillow talks.

No sat nav can guide the white calamus quest from ravage, but Sol.

As morning star, its spectrum rouses life’s liquid on helieborus.

Early Spring’s perfect petal cups, the Chloroformed awaken.

A downy feather lies still, as slow water flows once again.


The WordPress Poetry 201 course offered the following inspiration as part of its challenge on Day 5.

DAY 5

Fog = as the theme.

Metaphor = a form of visualisation through words, which  “brings two terms together, which are not connected,  but will make sense”.

Elegy = the poetic form. “An elegy is traditionally, pairs of verses, couplets, where the first is slightly longer than the second. It also has to evoke the feeling that something is “irretrievably gone” – such as a moment, a place , a feeling.”

This was certainly such a challenge. It took me time to think about all this and when I did, I realised I wanted to spend a little more time on it, and then became much more engaged,  when I could. I hadn’t expected to be so drawn. But in and out the writing,  I also wanted to feel Nature again and try and feel the reality of my elegy where possible. The photos from the path of my street on the afternoon walk of February 28 2015.


© 2015 La Floralie

73 Animalists between the Concrete

1

UNSEEN CREATURES

with undertaker features

which wriggle and burrow

with their tubes of elastic to mash

and melt oldest plant plastic soft

workings with hard machination

waste and dead bodies

they eat the most squalid

~

Blind thieves whose underground struggle earns title

Kings of the Soil  will squirm their best for the Earth

and grandest crowns of emerald beauty whose glisten

is nothing without the giant Unseen

~

Forms of the lowly, the lonely, the slimiest

these creatures from darkness

disappear

from the

Light

the most

indisputable

unimaginable

Eaters of Germs

Those creeping and crawling

but constant hardworking

the humble

in service

E

a

                                                                                            r

        th

w..

…./\/\/\/

…..orm

S

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A Spring pink flower, once a pink seed and friends with a pink earthworm,  watches the ground to see its old friends at work.

Today, a view of The Earthworm’s Holiday Home, and a shot underneath of  good soil in the making. One worm was too private for the lens.


2

A FRESH UNDRESS AMONGST THE SUCCULENTS

and sculptured sandtrail tells the story

where a Saharan beauty once slithered soft

with silent speed as a shark

in constant rhythm

and fixed focus poised for unpredictability

moving in increasing surface speed

towards the unsuspecting

scaled to strike in any place

at any time

in burning heat

before a sandstorm after

dark

in

                                                                             ——-:}

l

e

ss

t

h

a

n

o

n

e

Ssss

e

c

o

n

D

F                     L                    A                   T

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3

THE ARCHITECT

Sits

UP

high

in

a

tree

home

woven from

twigs and leaves

        most pReCarioumost stable

   most STRONG most soft

w

a

r

p

and

w       e      f      t

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4

SPOTTY APHID SWEEPER

                                                         f                                      n     g e    r   c  r a w  l i n g  on  my     finger.      l                       i       

y                          l

a                                     ‘  T

w                                N

a                     O

y!!!     D

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This post has taken inspiration by the WordPress Poetry 201 course.

 Day 4

Today’s challenge is to include:

 Animal = the theme

Enjambment = the use of the end of one line becoming the start of the next

and creating flow and also new interpretations

Concrete = picture making with words


© 2015 La Floralie

71 Today’s journeys

      From root to stem to reach a star

Winter’s journey’s wish twinkled thoughts afar

As my branch bends here

And leaves rustle just there

A summer thinking sky bird sings the stars with a prayer.

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~

 This short ditty was written via the WordPress’ 201 Poetry Blogging Course, where the second day’s task has been to create a limerick with alliteration on the theme of “journey”. But alas, no alliteration has sprouted forth as yet …. 

 The photograph was taken in West Midlands, UK  January 2015


Haiku

2 Fates

A wasted journey

Wrong time, right place. Lost in space

End without a start

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Blown by the time clock

Forward to life’s best exit

New start with good end

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 wet

            when wet swells a seed              

its all about the water

taking its travels

~

on a journey up

skywards through root, stem, leaf, sky

only to dripdrop down

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© 2015 La Floralie