Out of Nature’s Bones

I was rambling about my hate-hate relationship with winter, when a lady said, “I know what you mean. These damn months always remind me of getting ugly and dying.” The comment caught me by surprise. Not only because the lady had no idea what I meant (I just hate cold weather), but because I have never equated getting old with ugliness. Beauty changes with time, that’s true… but time doesn’t kill beauty. Only people do that.

Anyhoo, here is a haiku trio that embraces beauty that comes with time:

after the first spring,
new miracles do flourish
out of Nature’s bones

the sun shines
in the fallen leaves
of New York

time-caressed blossoms
evolve under winter’s kiss,
showing new beauty

for Poets United.

She Runs Twisted

Sherry Blue Sky, over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, invited us to Play It Again. I can’t say no to Sherry, so I said yes, and chose to Take It to the Streets. While I was at it, I said yes to Prompt Nights, too. I agree, Sanaa, Imperfection is Beauty(full)… with extra character. And because I’m feeling quite wild, I’m also linking it to Poets United (Poetry Pantry, 303).

“She Runs Twisted”

She runs twisted, from life to death,
the asphalt of her skin potholed with stories
of living, dying, and reckless loving.

She likes it slow in storms and at night,
fast when the sun’s a kiss away from setting,
with music roaring all her hollows full,

at any time, with wheels speeding caresses
over the surface of her heat. She loves it
when rain whittles poems into her middle,

leaving her beauty-marked with life,
marking her beautifully towards dying,
loving her marks with tales of living.

She runs twisted in life, in death, in love.

Abstract Nude, by Aja
abstract nude, by Aja
see more of her work on Sagittarius Gallery

*I deleted the first image I shared with the poem…
It did not feel quite right.
You can here it here, if you like.*