Was it the color, the sight or the smell?
She was struck by a fine wavering feeling,
Of the flowers of the rainbow that could be imagined or real,
But they had an invincible chord that played her rhythm of life
She was overwhelmed; it was as if she had found her own world at last!
Now, she was in her solitary nature where she could be free,
The flowers of the rainbow carried something silently powerful,
It was the ultimate freedom, tenderness and protection
She was in a dream, where all her elements went loose,
They were unrestricted, unbidden and in their true nature,
She was now dancing to her own tune that sounded true,
There was easy intimacy in the air that she breathed
The flowers of the rainbow had hands beyond tenderness,
She was in a timeless bliss in that moment of sweetness,
They were an ocean that she was too willing to drown herself,
She was now weak, helpless and imperfect human and it felt so right,
Aston kamunde 
Maybe it is different for different people, but for me, the flowers of the rainbow would be WRITING. My own little world, free and intimate but protected, an ocean in which I’d be willing to drown myself, a place where I am imperfect but it feels right. I can identify with so much in here, I wonder if writing does the same for you? 🙂
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I am with you on this all the way! It is protected, it heals, restores (hands beyond tenderness)…It is my purpose that i live for everyday, so much that i don’t care if i died today. Because i live my life everyday…and that’s the fundamental of my happiness and my entire being. Am so glad i met you Joan and so much glad that you are such a friend..saying “Thank You” does not seem enough, but please let us be. Can you send me a similar poem? Would be more than willing to respond!
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And you are right, it is different for different people. That is the beauty of poetry, that you can take a poem and own it, make your own meaning that is just yours!
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Reblogged this on Aston kamunde.
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