The Mangroves and the Rose

strange, black
trellis
creeper, rose-vine
thorny tendrils
curling… spinning…
along the
overhanging, this is…
what?
Dead wood, forests that breathe
in collection,
no single sentient being
each tree
a cell
in the everpresent collective
thought.
Be wary, rose
making your
(through the mangrove swamp)
careful way

(through the mangrove swamp)

March ’06

Advertisements

0 Responses to “The Mangroves and the Rose”



  1. Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s




Welcome…

This blog is the collection of my poetry and prose, in chronological order from most recent to oldest.

Constructive critique is actively encouraged!

I am usually singing words as well as writing them, and make lots of other art. You can find me & my other art at any of the below links. x

Latest quick update…

  • I have pretty horrendous heart pain right now, @JohnMayer is helping me through it. Like, his music, not in person. But that’d be cool too. tweeted 16 hours ago

Pages

Archives

Categories

COPYRIGHT

All content on this blog © Rebecca Tilley, 2003-present

%d bloggers like this: