swamp flower
There in the oily green of swamp
drifts a lovely lily rose,
unthorned on thickened pads of float
The slippery frog a constant friend
They call the water there unclean
Still, it is true that lovely things
... can grow in molds of ugliness
Hidden in the hard wood forest
and glistening in the sun's warm touch
......Phibby Venable
white flowers
What could I show you
in the commotion of our lives
We had a love that grew to bondage
... A house that owned us
and demanded sharp repairs
We were too young for the black clouds
that hung above our music
and rained scarlet tantrums
on the rusty tin roof
We planted a packet
of morning glory seeds
to prove we could grow
some other thing than struggles
Still the dark rain lazed
and many years later
the roof gave way
our keen eyes swayed
far beyond each other's sigh
though soft blooms grew
on the vine we left behind
unfolding white at dusk and dawn
long after we had gone
Phibby Venable lives in Abingdon, Virginia. Twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize, she is author of the novel, Women of the Round Table, and 5 books of poetry, including; Blue Cold Morning, The Wind Is My Wine, My Life On Little River, Indian Wind Song, and Blue Water Poems.
Email: phibbyvenable@aol.com
Author’s page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B002BLOY58
