Written Inside Places
Under the Rose Tree
All the flowers in the whole world were under the rose tree. A huge carpet with a tremendous grafted tree. Someone said it’s the best way to see them. Make an appointment though. Jam packed except if you’re there in the middle of the night. Sometimes the moon shows up shining her spotlight and if it’s cloudy they actually hand out special flashlights that simulate her blond eyes. People walk around pointing them this way and that at these flowers. Waking them up is like opening a whole bottle of perfume. Delicate scents or a very bold breeze. Either are intoxicating. So people end up falling asleep. I swear they become sleepwalkers at two in the morning. Dreaming things they never recall once they wake up. I say there’s a reason because everyone leaving possesses a sort of starry look from their eyes. They all have it, but that’s nothing compared to the dream I suppose. Copyright S. Kamber
2023
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Rivulets of Rhyme
The colors, the colors all running down my back, poured on by water. Disturbing the black. The flow of these colors creating rivulets of rhyme. They motion and curve and fall out of line. They ease into places. they forage a dream. To turn into blossoms completely it seems. Becoming the rhyme of a beautiful song. They touch you in places that probably long. For something so simple as colors on rhyme. The idea...colored water is simply sublime. Copyright S. Kamber
2023
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Written Inside Places
It was going to rain, I knew it, I could smell it in the breeze. The air turns to a certain flavor and you can taste it in your mouth. When I was little I tried to explain that taste. You have to breathe using your mouth and your nose at the same time and I guess it gets into you that way. It’s blue I said, because how best to describe rain. I guess you could say other words to describe the taste, but I was little then and blue was the best word I knew to call it. I would do it with my mouth open and my nose breathing in deep. Even when it wasn’t going to rain, just to practice. Like one is dancing for rain to make it happen. You know it’s working when you get the scent into you and see the people all scrambling around for shelter. Not me, I love the rain as it approaches, it’s not only the smell though. I remember sticking my tongue out and tasting it. Wondering where it came from before I found out. Now, I Ieave my hair there to get all wet from the rain and when no one is looking I put a piece of it in my mouth and taste it. © Susy Kamber All rights reserved
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