daisy chain
i remember when romance and hope were the same thing
he loves me, he loves me not
tattooed in a circle round my ankle
an ink drawn fresh dried forever shackle
offered in exchange for the customary key
but a young girl’s heart is always moving forward
ready to burst into star-struck song and
a brief exchange of whiskey serenade
until she learns with a crone’s bold eye
love is not the flower, but the root
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Linking in over at
Imaginary Garden with Real Toads for July’s Word List prompt.
Join us!
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July 10th, 2014 at 8:42 am
‘an ink drawn fresh dried forever shackle..’ but as you show us here, when we are young, that chain is what keeps us from flying off the planet as it spins, I think…this has a lovely cadence and clean delicate imagery, crisp but redolent of so many memories, both implicit and explicit–enjoyed it much.
July 10th, 2014 at 8:46 am
Simply sublime; that is all.
July 10th, 2014 at 9:44 am
… ‘A crone’s bold eye’ ~ it takes a while to get there, so worth the journey. Your poem touched me.
July 10th, 2014 at 9:58 am
Your ending is wonderful. It puts all of the contingent aspects you write of into the proper priority and perspective. Great idea, great execution.
Steve K.
July 10th, 2014 at 12:02 pm
I love that ending couplet with:
love is not the flower, but the root
I admire that realization after daisy chained of he loves me/he loves me not ~
Beautiful Kelly~
Grace
July 10th, 2014 at 1:05 pm
ah, goose bumps. fantastic, Kelly – and I don’t wonder, with your daughter’s impending marriage, how these thoughts swirl. that you so ably meld and make disappear the list words is testament to your skill. thank you so much for finding time to join in ~ M
July 10th, 2014 at 1:15 pm
This is gorgeous. Not a wasted word.
July 10th, 2014 at 4:41 pm
Yes indeed, love is the root. Exceptional.
July 10th, 2014 at 4:59 pm
love is the root.
we do tend to gain a little wisdom
when it comes to love
the older we get.
smiles.
July 10th, 2014 at 9:09 pm
This is magical…
I can see the young Maiden all giggles and rosy cheeks, loving the pretty flower he cuts for her…
And the Crone shaking her head, wondering, How long until she knows about the root?
Magical wisdom…
July 10th, 2014 at 10:39 pm
i also thought of the daisy chain…from point of naiveté rather than crone’s bold eye…love your take on this!
July 11th, 2014 at 9:10 am
Your images are fresh and convey the feeling very effectively. Your final couplet has all the strength of an epigram.
July 12th, 2014 at 12:33 am
argh, that last line.
July 12th, 2014 at 11:38 am
Very nicely told. We all hope she loves me. ‘Not’ is a bad word here. We played that game with apple stem twists and flower peddles picked off.
I love your last two lines, the second has priority. The flower is pretty, grabs attention, but the root sustains (is the root of it all).
Then I had to check to make sure I knew what/who the crone is. Close on, she knows. In our family, Papa (me) knows, or so “they” say.
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July 13th, 2014 at 1:19 am
Such a sage closing. Lovely imagery throughout…great writing, Kelly.
July 19th, 2014 at 7:01 am
Yes, love is the root 🙂