bloom.

Desert, her eyes are morsels

to the jasmine and roses once grown from her wrists,

between the flowers in each white finger,

whilst the moon falls, leaves barefoot in winter,

    deserved for posturing an abyss 

this dance, like an atramentous sea;

woman

to the ebb and flow 

of flower bedded lips to firstborn tree,

knucklebones, wrists,

red-dusted each tress,

a harvest of glass adorned on her face,

calaveras

like milium sands; sanguinolent

leaves fall, fingers hold them tightly

in silent beats of her heart,

she soon sings, through each palliative thorn

each stem that twists and lives,

swelling in möbius dreams

to asylum under the dotted moon, 

ice creases like a porcelain doll,

she begets it; broken bones of the shore

never surrenders, the woman aglow;

deathly violets she kisses them once,

and they bloom.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.


Written for the dVerse prompt: “Write a poem motivated by one of Catrin Welz-Stein’s images.”


76 thoughts on “bloom.

  1. I had to look up the meaning of several words here — I’m always learning at dVerse! I like your description of her in these words “ice creases like a porcelain doll.'” And I’ll take that final word “bloom” in the positive sense! 🙂
    She really is an amazing artist, right?

    Liked by 5 people

    1. Thank you so much, Lillian! And yes, this is actually a positive piece (oh, for once in my life… ha). I figured since you were hosting poetics today, I thought I would write a poem that’s much lighter than my usual writings; and I think I may have accomplished that. 🙂

      Yes, she really is. I’m going to check out more of her work. It’s inspiring.

      Liked by 2 people

  2. My goodness this is good! As always you swept me away with your magical imagery 😀 I love; “this dance, like an atramentous sea; woman to the ebb and flow of flower bedded lips to firstborn tree.”

    Liked by 5 people

  3. How wonderful that blooming at the end. This speaks to me of a woman in charge of her destiny despite the brokenness of life. This is my favorite imagery:

    she soon sings, through each palliative thorn
    each stem that twists and lives,
    swelling in möbius dreams

    Amazing write as always Lucy.

    Liked by 3 people

  4. I love this poem, Lucy. The opening lines are so dreamy and I love the wordplay in the ambiguous line: ‘whilst the moon falls, leaves barefoot in winter’ – it made me ponder. I was also drawn to the imagery and the lines:
    ‘knucklebones, wrists,
    red-dusted each tress,
    a harvest of glass adorned on her face,
    calaveras
    like milium sands…’

    Liked by 3 people

      1. I agree with you so much. I find that with poetry, it’s very dependent on multiple meanings than one set one, for the most part. Different perspectives can reveal meanings one hasn’t even thought of, as well.

        Like

    1. Yes, I really wanted the ending to be uplifting and happy somewhat. A large contrast to my usual writings! Thank you so much for your kindness and feedback. It’s always appreciated. ❤ ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  5. This is incredible in its beauty, Lucy. I love all of the imagery, rhymes and the sounds you have chosen throughout. It is very satisfying to read. You can feel the breaking and the growing. Overall I am just in love with this poem! 🌸

    Liked by 3 people

  6. Lucy, I so like it that you send me on missions to learn new words. I used to like going to the dictionary to investigate meanings, pronunciations, and how the heck do I use it in a sentence? But now there’s google/
    I haven’t mentioned “Fine Job” yet. / plus the wild imagery to imagine.
    Thanx, gray

    Liked by 2 people

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