There's no coma, she's faking it.
The roses are all painted white.
Pity the prince who falls for it.
A waking kiss will ruin his life.
There is no happily ever after
when you have to save her every day,
from witches and goblins and spiders
and dragons and mildew and poverty.
I always let sleeping princesses lie,
strewn everywhere like fallen leaves.
I ride with a woman who is my equal,
not one prone to hysteria and pregnancy.
cythera wrote:
>
> The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood
> ---------------------------------
>
> The spindle's yellowy glimpse makes a stain
> upon the flower hanging her head
>
> Then it is all over
>
> until the snow-crowds come
>
> Now she's beneath the hard, white prince
>
> Morpheal (morp...@sympatico.ca) wrote:
>
> Winter Stars
> ------------
>
> The garden is full of death
> at this time of year,
> bordered with spindly yellowed stains
> of softening wilt,
> surrounded by unfinished projects,
> packages nearly opened up,
> and the contents barely visible
> under a torn corner.
> It is as if everything dies
> at one glimpse of a flower
> hanging it's forelorn head down
> shagged and swaying,
> among a crowd of strangers,
> and then it is all over again.
> in knowing nothing more
> than some of us might make it
> until spring comes,
> when the snows melt
> from beneath one or another
> solitary hibernation
> under the hard cold white
> of winter stars.
Thank you very much!