#plume - Hello Poetry

I remember the day we first met. In the doorway of that tiny boutique with the leadlight windows on the corner of Main and Wharf. You looked expensive, all laced-up leather and felted wool, commando meets catwalk. Your friend was in stitches about something, and it was when you turned to her and stuck out your pretty tongue - then, right then - that was the moment that I decided you were going to be mine. I put aside my embarrassment and guilt. I ignored the whisperings of my empty wallet, and the thought of what my flatties would say in the morning. I picked you both up and took you home. Two for the price of one. Ten years later, both of you are still around. Not quite as streamlined and sassy as you used to be. Your souls - my bad - soles are in need of repair, your white stitching has blackened, and your brass eyelets are looking a little worse for wear. But we’ve walked miles haven’t we? You, me, and your mirror image - BFFF - Best Feet Forward Forever.

0

Jul 5, 2019

Jul 5, 2019 at 10:40 PM UTC

annh

Dear BFFF

I remember the day we first met. In the doorway of that tiny boutique with the leadlight windows on the corner of Main and Wharf. You looked expensive, all laced-up leather and felted wool, commando meets catwalk. Your friend was in stitches about something, and it was when you turned to her and stuck out your pretty tongue - then, right then - that was the moment that I decided you were going to be mine. I put aside my embarrassment and guilt. I ignored the whisperings of my empty wallet, and the thought of what my flatties would say in the morning. I picked you both up and took you home. Two for the price of one. Ten years later, both of you are still around. Not quite as streamlined and sassy as you used to be. Your souls - my bad - soles are in need of repair, your white stitching has blackened, and your brass eyelets are looking a little worse for wear. But we’ve walked miles haven’t we? You, me, and your mirror image - BFFF - Best Feet Forward Forever.

3

*She sits upon her royal chair, eating a donut, drinking coffee, smoking a plume smoke rising like a phantom menace in the air. She calls upon her royal friends she sees, the batting false eyelashes to a perfect stranger asking the "gentleman" only for his "hand" by all means. She drives in her royal chariot, A red and orange one, flaming stripes at the sides, singing Songs about the battles and triumphs of wartime's "great" merit. One day this lovely newborn bird will fly the coop, the child I know by rights was a born queen! She'll win first in pageants and then we'll drink to soul's soup.*

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Dec 30, 2016

Dec 30, 2016 at 1:19 AM UTC

alan-s-bailey

Soul's Soup

*She sits upon her royal chair, eating a donut, drinking coffee, smoking a plume smoke rising like a phantom menace in the air. She calls upon her royal friends she sees, the batting false eyelashes to a perfect stranger asking the "gentleman" only for his "hand" by all means. She drives in her royal chariot, A red and orange one, flaming stripes at the sides, singing Songs about the battles and triumphs of wartime's "great" merit. One day this lovely newborn bird will fly the coop, the child I know by rights was a born queen! She'll win first in pageants and then we'll drink to soul's soup.*

12

the smoke from two fires swirls in the breeze in the light of the moon the plumes dance and tumble and merge into one as you and I become we become one

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Jan 13, 2015

Jan 13, 2015 at 12:32 AM UTC

prttybrd

as we fall

the smoke from two fires swirls in the breeze in the light of the moon the plumes dance and tumble and merge into one as you and I become we become one

7

A one thousand page hymn singing from lotus petal pages bound on hummingbird wings Subtle energies unfolding, unfurling unwinding within Celestial prophecies unrooting in elements of oceans of water of air Gaia and Uranus blooming from aetheric nests Subterranean spelunking unweaving a gossamer cloak from plumes of the Red-Tailed Hawk

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Nov 22, 2014

Nov 22, 2014 at 5:10 PM UTC

aaronmullin-fb

Red-Tailed Hawk

A one thousand page hymn singing from lotus petal pages bound on hummingbird wings Subtle energies unfolding, unfurling unwinding within Celestial prophecies unrooting in elements of oceans of water of air Gaia and Uranus blooming from aetheric nests Subterranean spelunking unweaving a gossamer cloak from plumes of the Red-Tailed Hawk

15