Soothsay, the Poppy Seeds
Seething poppies whisper to me
How soothsayers are a lie.
Betrothed with thoughts of internal
Elegance, outward recklessness,
Divine intervention by stormcloud;
Pregnant with crooked emotion,
Clumsy words, laughter like a murder of crows--
Hear them:
The flowerterrible, the naked and tempermental.
They devour my truth.
A dull concept of time reels through
Candy coated consciousness--
Relative all the same; "Maybe they come here
For a reason."
"Soothsay, the Poppy Seeds"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad
Wordsmith
Copyright © Jenna-Nichole Conrad | Year Posted 2012
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