Sunday, July 23, 2017

THE UNBORN CHILD

you catch a glimpse of     the unborn child    running in the background                

she is on her way            moon beams light her path        she comes from the 
                                                                                                      sea

in her pocket is a string    tied around her finger                and today's post

a small blue letter            carefully penned within             is her name



nothing else                    all that she is                  and all that she will ever be

is carried in her name      her mama waits for her             it is a time of bliss

she slips out of her sandals        to walk in the sand       pink grains between 

                                                                                                her toes

she dons her wig-hat        and pinks her lips            draws on her face

a new mask  shakes the sand from her feet         delighted as she looks 

                                                                                       in the mirror

July 23, 2017 

Note:  I have combined the words from Sunday's Whirligig and The Sunday Whirl.  Not all the words spoke to me....but I give myself permission to use only the words that resonate in this moment.  The other words I will leave and let others find a place for them in their poems.

The idea of the unborn child came from the movie, Daughters of the Dust, one of my favorites.  The movie creates a scene, of the what is happening just before the birth...and in the background you can see the unborn child running, coming to the place of her birth.  The unborn child narrates the scene. 



"Languid look at the Gullah culture of the sea islands off the coast of South Carolina and Georgia where African folk-ways were maintained well into the 20th Century and was one of the last bastions of these mores in America. Set in 1902." (This is a description of the film from the Daughters of the Dust site.)
                          



                                 


         

18 comments:

Jae Rose said...

Beautiful imagery Annell - the prompt words fit in effortlessly

Donna@LivingFromHappiness said...

Annell I adore the images this poem evokes...the unborn child running in the sand on her way to be born....just lovely!

Sherry Blue Sky said...

"She is on her way" and I can see her, running in the field with her bright face. Lovely, Annell.

Julian said...

You paint good imagery with your well placed words in your poem

Anonymous said...

What an absolute delight to read and watch her making her way to her birth. I love your poem and now must see this movie. Where?

Elizabeth

indybev said...

I've a fascination with the Gullah culture. Your words capture me!

ZQ said...

That was delightful.
ZQ

Sanaa Rizvi said...

Beautiful imagery here!

Mary said...

Love the imaginative way you have written this poem, Annell. You have given voice to this unborn child.

Old Egg said...

I really loved the poem and the images that formed in my mind as I read it. Absolutely beautiful.

Sumana Roy said...

Delightful images captivate the mind at once. "she is on her way moon beams light her path"....This has such a fairy tale touch to it! Gorgeous.

Deepa said...

Such a beautiful touchy read. I loved it

Click Here to see what Mrs. Dash Says

ayala said...

A lovely way to paint these images. A delight to read.

Kerry O'Connor said...

Your manner of setting out lines across the page is quite signature - an innovative way of conveying the idea across the horizontal plain. It makes me sit up and take notice of the phrasing.

colleen said...

The words skip along like I imagine she does.

Anita Sabat said...

Hope all unborn children find their way to Earth & without any illness or deformity, may all take birth...
Your poem took me down the memory lane when I first "met" my unborn child & delightfully awaited her birth.

Magaly Guerrero said...

I really like the closing delight..

Sok Sareth said...

I really like the glimpses into the speaker's wants, the what ifs... And I love the haiku, the image of students and master sharing and being poetry.

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