Beth Camp Historical Fiction

Sunday, October 18, 2015

#17: If I Had a Wish . . .

I could be a bear, 
outside all tooth and claw,
furious brown; inside 
a down comforter, hand sewn,
fluffy and warm, 
tucked in on myself
for the long winter to come.

Elephants are equally appealing,
sturdy, calm, that golden eye reflective,
a round of grasses, water, 
and rolling in warm mud baths
to cool the summer sun, 
perhaps leaning 
into the one you love; 
those tusks tell of something different,
night rages, screaming battles,
no, not an elephant.

How about a violin, strings awaiting 
for the bow, the music fills the air and ear,
notes streaming, harmonious,
each leading to the next, and then
set aside, to reside in memory.
Ah, now I've found my home:
words on a page,
words on your lips,

Neatorama, Let Me Play You The Song of My People
Sandy Brown Jensen introduced me to this wonderful picture of a Russian bear playing a harp. It seemed just right for today's prompt from OctPoWriMo to write a poem about something unexpected. Why not visit to see what others have scribbled on this rainy Sunday?

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