April 08, 2012

Crunched

Passing by
Those petals of yesteryear
Tapping at the innards
No clear protection

There she was
Reborn and open, crisp to the day
Anomalous 
Swept onwards on a breath of  clutter

Who supposed she would appear?
Hatchlings by God's own doing?
As curates turn in different directions
Avoiding shells


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11 comments:

zongrik said...

in a world like that, i can see how avoiding shells would be a big passtime

birth death its all the same

Jenny Woolf said...

Like the reference to the curate's egg!

Brian Miller said...

nice pick up of those petals....nice dramtization of the pic...and interesting ponderings in the last stanza as well...

Daydreamertoo said...

Avoiding shells... hard to do on an island of eggs :) Great imagery your words conjure.
Great use of the prompt, too.

Little Nell said...

Brings new meaning to ‘treading on eggshells’. I particularly like 'the petals of yesteryear', and who has not felt, at sometime or other, as though they were swept upwards on a breath of clutter?

Paige said...

hi helena: your poem has made me
stop and reflex. writte tenderly and knowingly [word?]

Heaven said...

I specially like the second stanza...creative take on the shells and petals ~

Tumblewords: said...

Intriguing. Delightful read.

Kutamun said...

Petal !, animalous hatchling, you have curated this so well

Sue said...

Thoughtful questions and intriguing premise.

Well done!

=)

Trellissimo said...

Here's to hatched hatchlings...