07-07-2013, 10:10 PM
Edit 3
Bottled elixir.
On that first morning you arose;
a freshly budded bundle of steadfast inspiration.
Cream complexioned, translucent in a moonbeam;
a dream, tipped with pale pink lips.
An early promise of perfection seen within a foppish
five point crown; under liveried in British racing green.
Searching for the up lit skies, your creamy golden globes,
carefree in the playful breeze,
quivered with excitement, bright and keen.
You did not understand the art within the hands
that grasped your tender parts,
wilfully they ripped apart all that you had saved
and set aside for a consummated start;
*
Fragrant in your wedding gown, you passed from hand to hand,
snip, snipped from maternal chords
you released your cream and gold abroad.
Halos of sherbet lemon burst
in clouds of dusted worth and from adversity, poetry was birthed.
A host of deserting hangers-on marched with micro steps
across the kitchen table top,
trapped in pains of darkened webbed deceit,
they hung like berried beauty; past perfection,
fit only for the birds to eat.
Set free from wounds that would not heal
you slipped into a syrup,
that soothed your bits of bruised confetti
wooing poetic pollen from your parted lips.
Aroma from your grace now flows,
summer eased ripples upon a stream,
perfect and smooth, an Elderflower cider ease;
effervescence that fuels the tongue of the poet’s creed.
* This stanza is out for this edit. See * for inclusion placement. (see note below)
Whilst the empty stalks of past support
exhale a fetid fragrance.
Maliciously dirty and caty,
dripping defiling pee. I have taken this stanza out for this edit. Tec thinks it is surplus to requirment. I quite like the sentiment for the metaphor and also it is part of the phisical processing issues. Comments on inclusion or to leave out please.
Edit 2.
Bottled elixir.
On that first morning you arose;
a freshly budded bundle of steadfast inspiration.
Cream complexioned, translucent in a moonbeam;
a dream, top tipped with pale pink lips.
An early promise of perfection seen within a soft and foppish
five point crown; under liveried in British racing green.
Reaching up lit skies your creamy golden globes,
carefree in the playful breeze,
quivered with excitement. Bright and keen.
You did not understand the art within the hands
that grasped your tender parts.
That wilfully ripped apart all that you had saved
and set aside for a consummated start.
Fragrant in white wedding gown, you passed from hand to hand,
snip, snipped from maternal chords
you released your cream and golden load.
Halos of sherbet lemon burst
in clouds of dusted worth – and poetry was birthed in adversity.
A host of deserting hangers-on marched a million micro steps
across the kitchen table top,
to be trapped in windowless pains of webbed deceit.
Like berried beauty, left hanging past perfection,
weathered and worn, they were only fit for the birds to eat.
Your past support was plucked and trimmed
and deflowered stalks dripped with green pee.
Catty and maliciously dirty.
Set free from wounded leaves that could not heal
you slipped into syrup
that soothed your shredded confetti bits
and wooed the poetic pollen from your parted lips.
Aroma from your grace now flows,
summer eased ripples upon a stream,
perfect and smooth, an Elderflower cider ease;
effervescence that fuels the tongue of the poet’s creed.
Edit one Thank to RC for cliche alert
[b]Blossom to bottle.
On that first morning you arose;
a freshly budded bundle of unshaken inspiration,
a youthful trembling of translucent cream complexioned dreams,
top tipped with pale pink lips.
The early promise of perfection seen within a soft and foppish
five point crown; under liveried in British racing green.
Reaching up lit skies your creamy golden globes
swung to and fro, carefree to play the breeze.
You did not understand the wilful hands
that grasped your tender parts
dashing your potential against the bloodied sun.
Ripping apart all that you had saved
and set aside for a consummated start.
Fragrant in white wedding gown, you passed from hand to hand,
snip, snipped from maternal chords
you released your creamy golden load.
Halos of sherbet lemon burst
in clouds of dusted worth – poetry birthed in adversity.
Deserting near neighbours marched a million micro steps
across the kitchen table top,
to be trapped in windowless pains of webbed deceit.
The snare of berried beauty left hanging beyond their peek,
fit only for the birds to eat.
Plucked and trimmed, the stalk
your support, dripped with green pee.
Catty and maliciously dirty.
Deflowered, but un-wilted your scent broke free
from the five wounded leaves that could not heal
and you slipped into a sloppy syrup
that soothed your shredded confetti bits
and wooed the poetic pollen from your parted lips.
Artfully matured, unstoppered words of grace now flow,
blessing and blowing effervescing scents
of a summer breeze and cidery elderflowered ease
that fuels the tongue of the poet’s creed.
Original post.
This is dedicated to a wonderful woman and an outstanding poet who has encouraged and inspired me in more ways than she could possibly know.
From blossom to bottle.
On that first morning you arose;
a freshly budded bundle of unshaken inspiration,
a youthful trembling of translucent cream complexioned dreams,
top tipped with pale pink lips.
The early promise of perfection seen within a soft and foppish
five point crown; under liveried in British racing green.
Reaching up lit skies your creamy golden globes
swung to and fro, carefree to play the breeze.
You did not understand the wilful hands
that grasped your soft hearted parts
and dashed your potential against the bloodied departing sun.
Ripping apart all that you had saved
and set aside for a consummated start.
Fragrant in a white wedding gown, you passed from hand to hand,
snip, snipped from maternal chords
you released your creamy golden load.
Halos of sherbet lemon burst
in clouds of dusted worth – poetry birthed in adversity.
Deserting near neighbours marched a million micro steps
across the kitchen table top,
to be trapped in windowless pains of webbed deceit.
The snare of berried beauty left hanging beyond their peek,
fit only for the birds to eat.
Plucked and trimmed, the stalk
your support, dripped with green pee.
Catty and maliciously dirty.
Deflowered, but un-wilted your scent broke free
from the five wounded leaves that could not heal
and you slipped into a sloppy syrup
that soothed your shredded confetti bits
and wooed the poetic pollen from your parted lips.
Artfully matured, unstoppered words of grace now flow,
blessing and blowing effervescing scents
of a summer breeze and cidery elderflowered ease
that fuels the tongue of the poet’s creed.
Bottled elixir.
On that first morning you arose;
a freshly budded bundle of steadfast inspiration.
Cream complexioned, translucent in a moonbeam;
a dream, tipped with pale pink lips.
An early promise of perfection seen within a foppish
five point crown; under liveried in British racing green.
Searching for the up lit skies, your creamy golden globes,
carefree in the playful breeze,
quivered with excitement, bright and keen.
You did not understand the art within the hands
that grasped your tender parts,
wilfully they ripped apart all that you had saved
and set aside for a consummated start;
*
Fragrant in your wedding gown, you passed from hand to hand,
snip, snipped from maternal chords
you released your cream and gold abroad.
Halos of sherbet lemon burst
in clouds of dusted worth and from adversity, poetry was birthed.
A host of deserting hangers-on marched with micro steps
across the kitchen table top,
trapped in pains of darkened webbed deceit,
they hung like berried beauty; past perfection,
fit only for the birds to eat.
Set free from wounds that would not heal
you slipped into a syrup,
that soothed your bits of bruised confetti
wooing poetic pollen from your parted lips.
Aroma from your grace now flows,
summer eased ripples upon a stream,
perfect and smooth, an Elderflower cider ease;
effervescence that fuels the tongue of the poet’s creed.
* This stanza is out for this edit. See * for inclusion placement. (see note below)
Whilst the empty stalks of past support
exhale a fetid fragrance.
Maliciously dirty and caty,
dripping defiling pee. I have taken this stanza out for this edit. Tec thinks it is surplus to requirment. I quite like the sentiment for the metaphor and also it is part of the phisical processing issues. Comments on inclusion or to leave out please.
Edit 2.
Bottled elixir.
On that first morning you arose;
a freshly budded bundle of steadfast inspiration.
Cream complexioned, translucent in a moonbeam;
a dream, top tipped with pale pink lips.
An early promise of perfection seen within a soft and foppish
five point crown; under liveried in British racing green.
Reaching up lit skies your creamy golden globes,
carefree in the playful breeze,
quivered with excitement. Bright and keen.
You did not understand the art within the hands
that grasped your tender parts.
That wilfully ripped apart all that you had saved
and set aside for a consummated start.
Fragrant in white wedding gown, you passed from hand to hand,
snip, snipped from maternal chords
you released your cream and golden load.
Halos of sherbet lemon burst
in clouds of dusted worth – and poetry was birthed in adversity.
A host of deserting hangers-on marched a million micro steps
across the kitchen table top,
to be trapped in windowless pains of webbed deceit.
Like berried beauty, left hanging past perfection,
weathered and worn, they were only fit for the birds to eat.
Your past support was plucked and trimmed
and deflowered stalks dripped with green pee.
Catty and maliciously dirty.
Set free from wounded leaves that could not heal
you slipped into syrup
that soothed your shredded confetti bits
and wooed the poetic pollen from your parted lips.
Aroma from your grace now flows,
summer eased ripples upon a stream,
perfect and smooth, an Elderflower cider ease;
effervescence that fuels the tongue of the poet’s creed.
Edit one Thank to RC for cliche alert
[b]Blossom to bottle.
On that first morning you arose;
a freshly budded bundle of unshaken inspiration,
a youthful trembling of translucent cream complexioned dreams,
top tipped with pale pink lips.
The early promise of perfection seen within a soft and foppish
five point crown; under liveried in British racing green.
Reaching up lit skies your creamy golden globes
swung to and fro, carefree to play the breeze.
You did not understand the wilful hands
that grasped your tender parts
dashing your potential against the bloodied sun.
Ripping apart all that you had saved
and set aside for a consummated start.
Fragrant in white wedding gown, you passed from hand to hand,
snip, snipped from maternal chords
you released your creamy golden load.
Halos of sherbet lemon burst
in clouds of dusted worth – poetry birthed in adversity.
Deserting near neighbours marched a million micro steps
across the kitchen table top,
to be trapped in windowless pains of webbed deceit.
The snare of berried beauty left hanging beyond their peek,
fit only for the birds to eat.
Plucked and trimmed, the stalk
your support, dripped with green pee.
Catty and maliciously dirty.
Deflowered, but un-wilted your scent broke free
from the five wounded leaves that could not heal
and you slipped into a sloppy syrup
that soothed your shredded confetti bits
and wooed the poetic pollen from your parted lips.
Artfully matured, unstoppered words of grace now flow,
blessing and blowing effervescing scents
of a summer breeze and cidery elderflowered ease
that fuels the tongue of the poet’s creed.
Original post.
This is dedicated to a wonderful woman and an outstanding poet who has encouraged and inspired me in more ways than she could possibly know.
From blossom to bottle.
On that first morning you arose;
a freshly budded bundle of unshaken inspiration,
a youthful trembling of translucent cream complexioned dreams,
top tipped with pale pink lips.
The early promise of perfection seen within a soft and foppish
five point crown; under liveried in British racing green.
Reaching up lit skies your creamy golden globes
swung to and fro, carefree to play the breeze.
You did not understand the wilful hands
that grasped your soft hearted parts
and dashed your potential against the bloodied departing sun.
Ripping apart all that you had saved
and set aside for a consummated start.
Fragrant in a white wedding gown, you passed from hand to hand,
snip, snipped from maternal chords
you released your creamy golden load.
Halos of sherbet lemon burst
in clouds of dusted worth – poetry birthed in adversity.
Deserting near neighbours marched a million micro steps
across the kitchen table top,
to be trapped in windowless pains of webbed deceit.
The snare of berried beauty left hanging beyond their peek,
fit only for the birds to eat.
Plucked and trimmed, the stalk
your support, dripped with green pee.
Catty and maliciously dirty.
Deflowered, but un-wilted your scent broke free
from the five wounded leaves that could not heal
and you slipped into a sloppy syrup
that soothed your shredded confetti bits
and wooed the poetic pollen from your parted lips.
Artfully matured, unstoppered words of grace now flow,
blessing and blowing effervescing scents
of a summer breeze and cidery elderflowered ease
that fuels the tongue of the poet’s creed.