Monday, April 9, 2012
I am not a poet. But sometimes words are produced when I look at certain objects. I don't really write the words. Something in my sub-conscience does. They just tumble out from the faucet of my mind. I took this photo a couple days ago for no apparent reason. Today when I looked at it I saw the inequities that abound in our country. My mind wrote the words in caps -- I think it was because emotionally I felt the critical drama that is being played out in our country.
A WILD GARDEN GROWS NEAR MY SMALL WOODLANDS.
SOME FOLKS ABHOR THE BLOOMS AND SEED PUFF BALLS THAT ARISE
THEY ARE SURVIVORS BEING SWORE AT AND CHEMICALLY SPRAYED.
THEY ARE IMMIGRANTS TO OUR LAND.
BUT CHILDREN LOVE THEM. MAKING SING-SONG AND DANDELION NECKLACES.
CHILDREN OF INNOCENCE WITHIN OUR MAD WORLD.
~ ~ barbara