The Mangroves and the Rose

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

(through the mangrove swamp)

March ’06


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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

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

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