Yezriel

On this fair and fresh Friday morning (I know, too much alliteration) I'm playing with my blogs. Especially this one, newly hatched.

Below is a poem that I wrote about an hour ago. It might have been inspired by what I had for breakfast, with toast, but it wasn't. It's inspired by the time of year.

Feel free to comment me! Specially if you like the poem ...

Fi


Yezriel


She knew it was inevitable.
The fluids had dried up a decade ago.

She was just putting off that moment a little while longer.

She wasn't sure why.
Not so that the world would be more ready for her,
because that would never happen,
not even if she waited another thousand years

to add to the fifteen that she'd already spent inside the egg.

She unfolded her arms from where they were wrapped around
her scaline body,

shook her several wings, 3 at a time,

slowly, slowly, slowly stretched out a hand

and started to scratch at the shell with her nails.



You'll find this poem, more of my work and that of other writers, artists, all sorts of creatives at the following address:

http://thecelticyear.blogspot.com


And now to play about with what I want to post next ...

xx