The little tree of mine evolving before my very midst -- each twisted line of poetry, woven colorful phrase, and knarled root of ideas -- growing into a bundle of branches.
Posted in response to the challenge Ode to a Tree.
The little tree of mine evolving before my very midst -- each twisted line of poetry, woven colorful phrase, and knarled root of ideas -- growing into a bundle of branches.
Posted in response to the challenge Ode to a Tree.
Melts the sun
With her ferocity– stripped away,
Turned into fragility,
We gasp as moon swallows sun.
We call it: “catastrophe,” as if — it is different.
A child nursed of negligence.
Yes, it is not ours —
In the skeletal frame of a fence,
nestled deep in the overgrown wiring,
Where vines wind up and veins wrap down:
a ribcage, constructed by their love, nurtures love.
Comments
Really cool line work! Like little knots in the tree. My favorite part is the recessed branches in gray shadow, which add such great dimension to the piece.
Love the way you colored it!
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