Rose & Thorn Poetry

I saw this picture and loved the colors. I thought the scene would be fun to describe. The original was posted here (Photo by Rhonda Buss) The Sunset Tree Those tangled tendrils reaching out, Black branches against a painted evening sky-- A shadow tree in fading light. On the shore of the copper shimmered sea, Listen to the lulling sound of subtle waves sloshing, Then sharply slapping in a crescendo, Along the rutilant rocky edge. Brilliant burnished clouds on fire, Loiter in a darkening indigo sky; Once shining brightly blue, The dimming day turning, Into a billowing purple haze. The evening gives way to night, The lingering light fades, The fire slowly goes out, And the sky goes dark. An ending to the day, A sign to enter a mellow rest-- Black branches merging with a blackened sky. Now awakens the spotted lights; While the world sleeps, Diaphanous shimmers of stars dance.

Awhile back I saw a picture of a dresser covered with cups and mugs with sunlight streaming through the window behind it. Inspired, I decided to make up a story behind the mess. I couldn't find the original picture, so I recreated my own version to capture a snapshot of a similar scene. These are my recreated versions The Morning Mess Golden shafts of morning light stream through the window. With Morning’s bright advent and the room touched in its wake, A late night gathering’s unsightly remains are brazenly shown, An expansive mess rudely exposed. An empty bag that once held pretzels, A soda can with the pull-tab missing, Brightly colored jellybeans straying from their home, The mess abandoned on a low coffee table, Its wooden surface sticky from careless spills and sugary specks, With a dirt stained rug underneath. Cups and mugs grouped across the dresser, A set of three tea stained mugs, A duet of tall clear glasses filled with water, A lone tea bag l...

The Morning Steam Porcelain mug filled to the brim, Perfectly sugared and creamed. Left to cool, it lets off steam, As I go about my tasks. While the coffee is cooling My morning is going, And I must not get left behind. The kitten is fed and I’ve made the bed, The dishes are now put away. Now comes the hard part, The real morning start up, How do I write my quota each day? So much to do and I just have today, But I think I’ll sit outside, Drink up my coffee and count all the birds that I spy.   (photo by Rose&ThornPoetry)

I cannot find the beautiful picture that inspired me to write this poem, but hopefully you can see it in your mind 😉 Here's something that I drew as consolation Cherry Blossoms on Water Mirroring glass, a liquid road Reflecting the frothy trees. Every shade of pink explodes From the bending branches above. Delicate blossoms release their hold Below they shatter, the petals scatter Pink confetti on the water bestowed. *I finally found the picture :) You can find the original here https://www.flickr.com/photos/aflanio/4512851232/lightbox/  This photo was taken by Aflânio Tomikawa. Isn't it beautiful?

 I saw this picture online and I wanted to write a poem about it. I have a similar pair of shoes that I've had for years. I don't own many pairs of shoes so the ones I do, I wear very often. Memories can be tied to many things. Mine are tied to my shoes. Getting rid of a favorite pair of shoes is like a memorial of sorts. That thought was the inspiration for this poem. Photo from:  http://shineylite.deviantart.com/art/Day-3-216007254 *photo taken by Mary Kate Mann The Shoes There they sit, the well worn footwear. Old, tattered, beloved. The dirt, the tears, the holes, the wear, Evidence of memories and adventure. Faded and frayed the trustworthy friend, To rest is laid. There for the forgotten game, The third date, the plane ride, The few times that tears were cried. And a thousand other days, Experienced and remembered, Each with jokes, and fails and laughs and trails. Kind protection from the wet walks, Dirt, glass and nails. Always near, always cl...

I’m posting what I want to call snapshot poetry. It’s a poem I write after seeing a picture that inspires me. I write the poem to describe a picture the way I feel it. I had fun with this one and wrote three different poems.   This is the picture I saw on Pinterest. I did some searching and this is the link for, I think, the original picture:   https://500px.com/photo/223415/its-a-rainy-day-by-vinoth-chandar Photo taken by Vinoth Chandar The Umbrella (component description) Eight suspended nylon wings,   Taffeta stretched between wire ribs. Pointed tips where water drips,   Metal shaft spiked through domed rain shield, Curved hook, a solid grip. The Umbrella (narrative) Lying there it stayed, While the water came to play. The dark clouds foreboding bade, For the sun, they did betray. On its side it lay, In crystal splendor vast arrayed,  The splashed canopy there splayed. In shadows forlorn, beauty it did portra...