This poem was conceived and birthed due to a photo prompt from Magpie tales merging with my fertile mind. I love the heck out of these prompts.
Check out the blog and allow your pencil to move:
Rusted watering can?
Its purpose to hold
water
Yet in repose, it
is
Pummeled Rainfall
off tree
Branches and seduced
by
Morning dew and
drips from
Overhanging spider
webs
Motionless, on the
stoop
The rusted watering
can
Waits. For someone
to
Pick it up and use
it for
It can not move on
its own
Or can it? Should
it? Must it?
How is my life like
a
Rusted watering can?
What a delightful Magpie poem you've written. This is my first time writing a Magpie Tale and my first time reading them. It's fun and there is so much creativity displayed.
PG
Posted by: One Prayer Girl | August 09, 2010 at 06:21 PM
Interesting piece! Delightful read.
Posted by: Tumblewords | August 09, 2010 at 08:06 PM
Absolutely lovely!!!
It's a blunt reminder too, in a way...
We too sometimes just act as watering cams, waiting to be "picked" and "used"... And sometimes, we choose to "move".
So beautifully you've brought it out here...
Posted by: Kavita | August 10, 2010 at 01:50 AM
You pose an intriguing question .... nicely done!
Posted by: Helen | August 10, 2010 at 10:10 AM
oh you give us things to ponder in your magpie...arent we all just waiting to be use-ful...maybe...i like to think so. smiles.
Posted by: brian | August 10, 2010 at 02:57 PM
pleasant take..
:)
Posted by: Jingle | August 14, 2010 at 08:38 PM