Weaving Native Life
Trees' jagged branches
catch the sun sinking a moist
hummus color spread
and coating the edges.
Pointed, thrust into seeping
ink of violet cotton,
is the mountain, chalk
colored. It is a beautiful ogre,
deceptively majestic.
It eyes a village
weaving native life.
Spines of which are wild
burnt-colored trees,
the bones of the forest, its
tangy scent sweet to prey
that lure the lion,
whose deep yellow is the hue
of the indian
sunset. The sky is now
an acrylic portrait. A stoked
fire settling, rose imbued.
Ash color ingrained
into stone embraced by ivory
patches, bone-chilling.
The sugar- soft dirt
covered paths collect footprints.
Carved into a life.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
