Wednesday, November 14

Bursting forth,
From tight enclosure,
A reluctant release.
As if, like a mother,
it wishes not,
to free the blossom,
that is her child.

Please excuse my blush,
As I reproduce.
I know it is time, & right & meet.
But still I fail to see
Why my heart should have to blush.

Reality, or reflection,
how can we tell?
Slip into the image,
Is this a new reality,
or just a relection
of a dimly
remembered reality.
Which side of the door
do I stand.
Which side
is my reality?

I cannot write poetry.
This I know.
But sometimes
this is how my thoughts appear.
The Waifs, How Many Miles.


ancient one said...

Poetry or not, I enjoyed every word and picture!!

meggie said...

Ann, you are such a faithful reader.
One day when Lotto treats us well, we will have to meet all our blogger friends.

Marja said...

To free the blossom that is her child. I love it. You're on a right start. Great pics. Come and pick up an award meggie

daysgoby said...

I think it was lovely. And I love the pic of your darlins at the end.

Tanya Brown said...

It looks and smells like poetry to this crusty soul across the great pond. Lovely. And to look at your beloved, no one would know that he's a cold-hearted fuschia killer.

bluemountainsmary said...

Poetry to me is simply listening to what is in your heart and letting the words come out.

Rhyme is irrelevant.

I think you have been listening to your heart.

Josie said...

Meggie, that's lovely. I love the pictures, too. And lucky you, you're in spring there.

No blossoms bursting forth here. We're heading into winter.


sueeeus said...

It sounds like poetry to me. :)
So lovely.

tracey petersen said...

I see it Meggie and I feel it. Thank you.

crafty said...

Yep, if that ain't poetic, I dunno what is.

I laughed at your thoughts on close-ups of faces in TV dramas.

Ian Lidster said...

This was nice, serene and evocative. That makes it poetry.

sheoflittlebrain said...

A charming post, Meggie. I think you are a poet:)
I wonder.... what is the flower in your first photo?

Finn said...

I'm with sounds like poetry to me, which at times is just the song of the wind in the trees, or the Canadians flying overhead.
It's what your heart says and/or hears that matters.
London Bridge..I say let's pick it up and drop it on the heads of certain people *evil grin* Are ya with me??? Big hugs my friend, Finn

meggie said...

Hi All,
Thankyou for your kind comments.

The flower in the bud, is an Agapanthus. They became a fashion fad with landscapers, as their long leathery leaves remain green & shiny all year round, & the long stemmed flowers in purple/blue, & white, make a splendid display. However they have become somewhat of a menace to native bush in New Zealand, & now Australia. Peope are urged to keep them contained, here. They are very hardy, & seem to be drought hardy, & can stand all types of soil.

The red centre of the Bromeliad only goes red when it is in reproduction mode, & small pink & blue flowers appear in the very centre of the plant.

The smear on the glass is from SG 'cleaning' it on Sunday,

Ragged Roses said...

You CAN write poety and this was beautiful!
Kim x

Mike said...

Great words and pictures Meggie.

caramaena said...

I'm not normally a poetry person meggie, but that was lovely :)

Lucy said...

Sometimes only poetry will do!
Join me and cast off your 'I can't write poetry' chains!
(Loved the reflection one!)