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Pictures of the Past

The stilled portrait tells of a past A past where the painted girl in blue ran wild Dandelions clutched in her small fists A penny in a wishing well Her ear pressed to a conch Wanting Hoping Needing to know you really could hear the ocean In Arizona And the red paint handprint Told of a day when she held her breath To quiet her fear When a bumblebee landed On her cinnamon dusted nose. And when she couldn’t stay still any longer It simply flew away. A discarded photograph on her bed Shows two girls laughing and posing For the awaited flash Ice cream on the back porch days Melted strawberry Chapstick Always in their pockets Because the cherry tasted like cough syrup. A grainy Polaroid pinned to the wall Full of barely visible faces You could tell she liked to experiment With boys, looks, and friendships Heavy lidded eyes and a Dark color scheme Mouth frozen in a smirk Earring made of fake crystal Purple dyed curls Arm around the girl on the porch At a different stage of life A desktop background, Brightly lit Taken in a school hallway A blonde and a red-head One hand on his shoulder His lips pressed to her cheek Both smiling Eyes closed Her guard was down Her hair like a waterfall And his hand in hers A picture slipped between pages of a book Capturing a torrential downpour Of graduation caps Black polyester against White cotton clouds and a silver-blue sky And you can almost hear the cheers Celebrating an old end and A new beginning.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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Date: 4/27/2017 4:24:00 AM
So beautiful, sososososo beautiful! I have no words for this Iris, this is pure poetry, and the imagery is insanely good.
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Iris Blade
Date: 4/27/2017 3:16:00 PM
Thank you so much, comments like yours make my day. I am really happy you enjoyed it. With this poem I tried to consider the saying 'A picture is worth a thousand words.' while not quite a thousand, I did enjoy describing the images.
Date: 4/26/2017 4:45:00 PM
This poem is extremely deep and incredibly creative. Feels as if it has come from a familiar place, a genuine tint to this. The red handprint, the melted cherry chapstick, the conch shell listening for the ocean in Arizona. This just blew me away Iris. What a fantastic piece of writing. Very, very nice.
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Iris Blade
Date: 4/27/2017 3:17:00 PM
Thank you so much! I love how supportive Poetry Soup members are, especially you, Chris Green. This poem wasn't exactly my story, but it was inspired by such. I do call Arizona my home, I love the beach, and when I was growing up my mother did one handprit a year as a record of how much we had grown. I included some aspects familiar to who I am, and other pieces to this story are ones told to me. Thank you so much for reading and commenting!

Book: Shattered Sighs