Thursday, June 18, 2015



Under the tree there is a pink carpet
Spread; did some one say cherry petal?
Not the answer to fit that colour
Pomerac flowers? yes

Rolling with the wind, in the rhythm of
The wind, bracts, purple's the hue;
Grey concrete pavement holds, the
Sound of footsteps

The centers of white plumerias
Are, filled with the sun's radiance;
They fall, tumble lightly, speckling
The grass, pretty as can be

He left, for she beckons, that Jezebel!
With breasts to suckle displacement;
Children need their father you know,
They make good horseys, hands and knees
On the floor

Ah yes white, is the colour of the rose you
Dunked in the dark waters of your selfish
Blood curdling bowl Jezebel! Remember?

There's no colour to state heartlessness
There's no colour to paint a young wife
In grief, thinner than her petite size,
Sized to un-sexy

Oh but that was long ago, before the
introduction of wild strawberry, tumbleweed
And razzmatazz, pretty names for colours
That always existed

Guess what? some colours, are just mightier
Than the sword
© gillena cox 2015

Written for Fireblossom's prompt
Fireblossom Friday Picture This
Imaginary Garden With Real Toads
The challenge: to complete the title given part of, and then to write a new poem to go with it "Pictures of _________"