Sunday, 15 May 2011

Poppies



As I sit,  quietly watching
                     I see them rise
                              like paper butterflies
gently now,  before my eyes
                up from their sea of green
                         into your water colour painting
each one, carrying secret dreams
                      precious load destined
                              for those who choose freedom.



(Photo by Fee Easton @bootcoot photo prompt for Oneshotsunday @Onestoppoetry 15/05/11)

13 comments:

  1. "I see them rise / like paper butterflies / gently before my eyes. . ." woman. I love your flowing gentle rhymes in this wonderful take on that image :)

    Monty

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  2. I really like the passage Monty quotes and would like to add that I think the ending has a nice ring to it— especially the last two lines which strike me as highly suggestive.

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  3. Wonderful words. A fine tribute to the photo with great images.

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  4. Love the line like paper butterflies...

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  5. This is a delightful, rather simplistic poem with beautiful, appreciative imagery woven into a rhythm that is a joy to read. That is, until we get to the final two lines, which, as Adam identifies, are so huge, it's astonishing they have come from the same poem. You leave your sting until the very end, and sign off leaving us pondering. They could mean such a lot, it's fantastic not knowing even where to begin! Great poem.

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  6. Beautiful! I have a special relation to poppies since my early childhood. They remind me of butterflies bound to earth. (I just realized you had a similar thought ...) As I always say, I love their fragility and persistence.

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  7. I believe this is the first time I've happened on your blog. What lovely images you paint. Hope to read more of your work. Victoria

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  8. big smile...great rhymes and beat to this one...and beauty in the imagery...that i could be one of them...

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  9. I love the "paper butterflies" and imagining their "secret dreams". Lovely poem!

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  10. Each one of those flowers is indeed just like a butterfly, and a dream. Beautiful poem.

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  11. Beautiful and fragile, as those flowers are, is also the freedom we choose. Q x

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  12. Simply beautiful, Abi ~ your words drift along like poppies in a gentle breeze until, as several people have already mentioned, your final two lines catch us by surprise and send our thoughts & feelings soaring like a rabble of butterflies. This poem is SO good ... a competition-winning poem, I would say.

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  13. Thank you all for your fantastic comments! :)

    Abi

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