Grass Grows
Grass
grows
I can't
believe it.
Grass grows, and I smile,
my mouth lipsticked in pretty pink.
It is already five months since you died and left me.
Life goes on, as we're told. Even I go on, into a morning of birdsong and grass.
The Solitary Life
I
am
sitting here
filing my nails
and simultaneously reading my computer.
It's a wet day outside; there's a hum of white noise around me.
The cats curl on the bed, my coffee is at my elbow, I'm warm. The solitary life, too, can be cosy.
In response to a prompt from Verse First, at Poets United.
Adapted from Wiipedia:
In mathematics, the Fibonacci numbers or Fibonacci series or Fibonacci sequence are the numbers in the following integer sequence: 0,1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21, etc. or 1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21, etc. By definition, the first two numbers in the Fibonacci sequence are 0 and 1 (or 1 and 1) and each subsequent number is the sum of the previous two.
In the above poems, the first works on syllable count, the second on word count.
Fibonacci poems are also known as fibs. And I like to pun.
Two very fine "fibs." Enjoyed them both, particularly the first one. Yes, indeed, sometimes it is amazing that one does find a way to go on!
ReplyDeleteLiked these, even though they speak of sadness.
ReplyDeleteI can imagine your super sweet pretty pink lipsticked smile :) Lovely, both of them!
ReplyDeleteSo lovely, Rosemary. I am glad you find some comfort and contentment, after being through so much loss. You encourage and inspire us with your words.
ReplyDeleteVery well written. The first is moving and there is an element of surprisr within it. Nicely done :-)
ReplyDeleteSo happy you see the green grass!
ReplyDeleteFiling my nails, i end up biting mine! very nice
ReplyDeleteRosemary, you never cease to amaze me. Living in the moment and conveying your experiences simultaneous although disparate. This is life, isn't it? You capture it so well. Bravo!
ReplyDeleteI feel you can sink in fibs and at the same time they keep you afloat.
ReplyDeleteInteresting thought! :)
DeleteMany thanks to you all for reading and commenting.
ReplyDeleteGrass: and the growing goes on, oblivious.
ReplyDeleteTime seems cruel in its detachment.
Still, it is healing too, in part at least.
Your poetry helps, a little, I hope.
The poetry does help. I keep wondering how people who aren't poets cope with such experiences!
DeleteI love the way these evolve,it really captures the feel of the sequence
ReplyDeleteRosemary,
ReplyDeleteYou wove such tales with both fibs:) I really wanted to keep on reading more and more!!!
Very enjoyable,
Eileen:)
2 Fibs, the clue to the reality. Which are the fibs? Well done.
ReplyDeleteHow beautiful, Rosemary. Both are lovely, soft poems.
ReplyDelete