Respect for the roses

Quite often when I sit and write, I don't know where my inspiration comes from. This latest one however follows the trend I seem to be developing for linking life, nature and the environment. I hope you enjoy.


Respect for the roses

When she speaks, petals burst from her
to fill the air;
Raspberry wisps that curl and float,
and with a shower of softness, rest
upon those dear to her.
Her hums help to shake the cloud
in to a blanket of delicate armour
that crisps, and protects
when exposed to sun. Every perfumed breath
an encouragement –
to step out of the shadow,
and dodge the thorns.
As they grow and shed the brittle flakes
of love, the shards – that are ground into dust
under their feet – nourish the buds that now spring from them,
and heaps delight
unto the Rose that borne them.


(c) Copyright Jane Edwards 2011

Sewn

As usual, anything that catches my eye usually inspires me to write… Though I have gone off on a tiny little tangent!


Sewn

We each have a ragdoll;
a tiny little clone,
patched from our experiences,
stitched with colours of our hopes.

Mine is sitting quietly on a dusty, comfy chair,
between pink ink and paper,
with eyes of blue glass-buttons
and cherry-yarn bunched hair.

My seams are yet unfinished,
large stuffing-tufts on show,
as for little bows of happiness –
they wait patiently in row.

Some stitches are imperfect,
some material threadbare,
my fabric skin not peppered near-enough
with yellow darned here or there.

So, if your doll is tinged with purple,
or a little bluish-green,
leave your model in the sun
and fade until unseen.

(c) Copyright Jane Edwards 2011