deepundergroundpoetry.com
dendrolatry
she has not been moved
recently by the curve of her pen
it rests stagnant in the bowl
of mystic dewy ink
hiding in a drawer that
refuses to open its gallery
of words
her paper rests
unwillingly vacant and alone
perhaps words weren't necessary
small piercings emerged
punctuated by color
her ink became threads
translating her thoughts
into image
needle working it's way through
the tangle of words
becoming branches
slowly intertwining
into another art form
birthed from her love
of trees and flowers
where words are not necessary
or needed
just the mystery and beauty
resting in her fingertips
slim blade with eye
pulls the threads into form
where Nature dances
spilling from her soul
where movement is imperative
Note ... image won't upload, bummer!
recently by the curve of her pen
it rests stagnant in the bowl
of mystic dewy ink
hiding in a drawer that
refuses to open its gallery
of words
her paper rests
unwillingly vacant and alone
perhaps words weren't necessary
small piercings emerged
punctuated by color
her ink became threads
translating her thoughts
into image
needle working it's way through
the tangle of words
becoming branches
slowly intertwining
into another art form
birthed from her love
of trees and flowers
where words are not necessary
or needed
just the mystery and beauty
resting in her fingertips
slim blade with eye
pulls the threads into form
where Nature dances
spilling from her soul
where movement is imperative
Note ... image won't upload, bummer!
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