WWP 133: On the Fly...

http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/2012/11/28/prompt-133-its-post-your-poems-day/

Listen to the sky turning raspberry red
(changing poetic sensibilities)

On the Fly...
I hear blue speak
in that awkward old lady hair shade
the one that tastes like an ice cone
filled with syrup to color the lines of your lips
as stiff and brittle as caramelized peanuts
And it says; I don’t care what you see,
to me there is a beauty to be found,
such as one found on a calm sea
with almost no wind at all -
that is how I am now, breathless
waiting for honor due and the mirror doesn't lie.

I hear clowns sigh at rainbow coiffure
the non-movable wigs, sirens of streaks
racing down the heads of rebellious youth
fire reds consuming sensibility
purple that belongs in jam sandwiches
greens that look like the guts of squashed bugs
And the boys and girls both say;
We are beautiful to each other -
Does it matter what our parents think?
Do we make you breathless as you side-step
to the other side of the street in avoidance?

I hear peace wings and waterfall strings
as my imagination flies and floats over the variegated
bark of dogwoods; White, not pure, not now,
silver of little value, natural browns once the roots...
speaking softly, whispering: We knew you when
you were your mother’s daughter and even now
as you are your own son’s mother - your voice is ours
- stranded, often plaited or bound into submission -
we have our own tail to tell, will you listen?
Hear us as you chew, as you sup the visions
that bookend your years - independence is a gift.

©JP/davh