Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
You would not come with me through constellations of Jack-in-the-Pulpit, your reasons shrouded in obscurity. I went there once to pray --- Did I tell you? --- I spied a grey squirrel gnawing a cherished butternut in a fury of drunken hunger; forgot at once my prayers. You went instead, alone to the Kingdom of the Mushroom. I sealed my mouth afraid to enter there. You saw violent phosphorous rivers and vivid galloping colors, that were of mystical internal origin. We might have eaten vine-ripe strawberries and drunk cold mountain water, that gushed from the mouth of the cave under the cliff. Perhaps, like me you were afraid, terrified by florid fields and familiar female. How sad --- Sometimes I am so dense --- I should have told you, *I went there in the distance as a girl.*
0
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 7:47 PM UTC
Epiphany from the Berry Fields
You would not come with me through constellations of Jack-in-the-Pulpit, your reasons shrouded in obscurity. I went there once to pray --- Did I tell you? --- I spied a grey squirrel gnawing a cherished butternut in a fury of drunken hunger; forgot at once my prayers. You went instead, alone to the Kingdom of the Mushroom. I sealed my mouth afraid to enter there. You saw violent phosphorous rivers and vivid galloping colors, that were of mystical internal origin. We might have eaten vine-ripe strawberries and drunk cold mountain water, that gushed from the mouth of the cave under the cliff. Perhaps, like me you were afraid, terrified by florid fields and familiar female. How sad --- Sometimes I am so dense --- I should have told you, *I went there in the distance as a girl.*
brian-oarr
Written by
American
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 7:47 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem