Rebecca Wilson

 

A Hollow Nut

bitter, shriveled seed.
beyond decay ... petrified and black.
life comes and goes before sunlight reaches within.
cast off by the blackbird,
rejected by the soil and raindrops.
empty life
hollow nut.

 

stealing your line

"your voice has so many layers".
sometimes i think an angel gets into your mind
and blesses us with thoughts of amazing focus.
it was in afterglow.... but i know you know that.
those words came wrapped like a gift in soft pink tissue paper.
ribbons curling down in pale lavendars and baby powder blue.
you gently hold a present out to me, smiling as you hear me smiling back.

smelling my after midnight hours in your autumn afternoon coolness there..
i knew just what you were feeling..
my colors and textures of lambswool and razor edges,
the cooing mourning doves, holding the shadows from the almond trees gone to
the parrots.
fluttering outrageous, gregarious plumes as they guarded the hold.
layers emerging of crimson anger and charred disappointment.
bebie, don't go away... you echo a layer that's buried for only you to know.
i told you to write it down and you did..
but i stole your line.
layers of voices and every one of them .... true.




Rebecca Wilson
     hhmmm, having been put in the position of "trying" to be clever with the content of this bio, i find myself at a loss. i'm better at the impromptu i believe. anyway, i write "poetry" which my family and friends patronizingly say is fine. however, the professor at our local college, (Bucks County, Pa. Poet Laureate for several years) seemed to have quite a different and less complimentary opinion. (smile).. i write for therapy which is more than any person should expect. it seems to be safer than medication and a lot less expensive.
     i'm not an artist, a photographer, a musician, or a math teacher. i do APPRECIATE art, film, music and i like math. (smile).. i travel the highway and i have 13 earrings in my left ear. that's all i can think of that's "clever".


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