Skip to main content

Fields o Fleur

Fields



When they turned the corner of the hill, there was a sight that caught their eyes like insects in amber. What they saw could not be, yet it was, a field shrouded in flowers innumerable that seemed to stretch further than the horizon. This magnificent tapestry of petals, was an ocean drunk to eyes overfull. Salted in prismatic sheen, it was no wonder that this was a place of haunting. “Peer not, or be forever in Spring”, said the olden spirit to the boy in a voice dire, and crystal keen.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Juggler Nod

Took a piece I wrote: ‘Original’ Which then turned into this: I wanted to emancipate the words into verbs. Looking through a telescope at those rhymes that were too far to reach. Too far away to chart properly. A cartographer with eyes studied in the prodigal stumble. The sort of clumsy wizened balance one must have to be accustomed to falling properly, over the precipes-to where dragons be, as the land dweller would claim. Falsely do the people who know not the edges to sky, try to name the frightful tales sailors' would tell like barley plumes, from their barnacle lips. O! It is a scene too important to leave, unpainted. How in soft candlelight ashore, for a while, the starmad crosses ways with the children of the sun, and whisper of the places beyond what is known. To this, a map was carved in to the bedrock as an aqueduct for preserving blindness to drink up in fretful haste: as it was a comfort to keep dragons at the gates, to imagine no further than the eyes bursting gaz...
Post a Comment
Read more

Castling Thought.

When do we start? .and. for who? will the want-be? more than hues, in summer blues? rhyme the rhyme that rythmn’s itself. chase the choice that chases itself. matters are much, if they matter much. Tweezer fingers x              and I think of that time I said something clever seeking for salvation within Tweezer fingers; I really wish I understood a pronoun To Care for Yet dance with in mending Gentler nights where Dreams arrive in moth's breathe that glyphs with mandibles that wish to look at the, 'not yet's for years to elements transmuting Life & Nevermind the once something's discussed to malady a mildews want to, 'I love you', spread by and mulched in: not enough salve slathered for the all alone's to grow Untouched  by memento ja'dor just Snow,  memento invictus.  remembers  us, in halycon gloves scaling the 'the Wild Hunt', in Yule shine sky caroling, for, in voices gone: 'let the bells ring wildly',  ...
Post a Comment
Read more