Her Delicate Beauty

 

~ Her Delicate Beauty ~

{The artist will always paint a world of blue and hazel nut. Sometimes he does not care if his visions makes sense but unto himself. I dream about the image that is like breaking ice particles to me. It may be painful, and unheard by others, but to me . . . what makes life is mere creation- even in the smallest quantities- like the butterfly on the lake. I yearn to hear your thoughts, my loves ~}

 

As a butterfly blows its lacy edges,

Towards the flits of these thin grasses,

She always knows who to create with her,

Tiny little swirls and designed patterns,

That might forever be denoted . . .

As her treasure,

Which we must take with us, keep close-

Until our minds no longer remember,

The pretty design she blew,

Through her seemingly flawless-

And loving journey,

It has been our privilege to witness,

Only by her love and Ladyship . . .

 

How could we just forget,

As we sit down by the river,

What her beauty has shown to us,

And I see her fine, thin trickling,

Her purely unmarred progression,

Of pattern-laced or mural,

She has painted up for me,

Whilst I preen my toes along the water-

And every small ripple I do feel,

While I watch mesmerizingly,

As every act of fate that she paints,

With her delicate pen so different,

As she blows them, gently, softy,

Upon my sun-warmed face . . .

 

I smile into her beauty.

And all of the luxuries on Earth,

Could never be so equivalent,

To this one, little darling whiff,

Of God’s ethereal portrait,

That highlights the real visage,

Which only the most minuscule piece of life,

Could ever demonstrate-

 

How could I ever forget the birth,

Of our own natural design,

And the gifts that I in my callous disgrace,

I did not, perhaps, deserve . . .

 

I will never deserve them. But it is there for me,

While I close my eyes gently to,

Her soft song-

 

I watch as the butterflies goes north,

Leaving behind her imprint . . .

And I know I will,

Try not to forget her true message-

And I promise her to keep it in my heart,

Like a shard of closed-up glass,

Until I remember her, inevitably-

Her trace vanished . . .   

Reviews

[Androglossia]

Been a while, isn't it?

I'm seeing intricate patterns upon reading this write, not sure of it's the elaborate presentation of fine words or the undercurrent of emotions or the "Tiny little swirls and designed patterns" that you have let us imagined:) Either way, I see this a reflective write, a manifestation of thoughts of the things we luckily possess, of things we love and lost and must be grateful for.

This is a great wrire Brooke, and has been in my library for a month or so:)

[Foxemerald]

Hi Maryanne,

Please accept my heartfelt apologies for the sheer amount of time that it has taken me. I don't think that I could ever be quite so contrite as I am, and have dearly missed these fine exchanges that we have. I am really enlivened by your excellent review, which immediately refreshed my spirits! After my travels in London I began college almost immediately, and therefore needed to revamp my entire read schedule. You have provided me a solid and necessary reminder to seek the important. I am so enthused to finally devour these readings once again, and rest assured that you will see my presence on the site much more frequently =)

Thank you for your review of this piece, which I have not reviewed for an immeasurable time length. Keep up your amazing beauties of prowess- I will you review soon. I do hope that you are absolutely alive with poetic thought right now!

Brooke ~

[Androglossia]

Lol, it's really okay, Brooke. No rush:) I was referring to my long absence. This was actually the first review I made after my immeasurable absence. Take your time. Live. I'm not going anywhere.

[Foxemerald]

No, of course not =) . . . I didn't think you were. But I thought I'd offer my charming arts of persuasion anyway, just in case I'd put myself in jeopardy, haha. Good to see you back here too.