Thursday, October 9, 2008

Wild Girls

Sometimes I long to be one of the wild girls,

With their unsettling sunflower faces

Both beautiful and blank.

Sometimes I wish I had hair that had never been cut,

Wild dark curls full of fireflies and jet,

Black and bold as my stare.

I would weigh nothing, just a jewel from a penny candy machine,

Roving with my friends in skinny packs like some sort of small social tigers,


Yes Mother,

Yes Father,

But at twilight when you call us to come in and brush our teeth,

We sprint for the shadows

And the sanctity of our own skins,

Those places where the wild girls




Mama Zen said...

Wow! This is just fabulous. I was feeling it as I read it.

Fireblossom said...

Thank you, Mama Zen!

S.L. Corsua said...

The candor in this piece is what makes it special to me. I see it, and, grimacing, I admit I've lived through it. Fiction becomes non-fiction. ;)

Cynthia said...

LOVE! Wonderful writing and so
vividly visual, great poem Shay!

Anonymous said...

Very interesting poem indeed. The simplicity of the piece hides inner truths. Well done!

Fireblossom said...

My thanks to all of you for reading and commenting. I appreciate all of your thoughtful replies!

Nichole said...

Absolutely love it!!! Fantastic capture of us wild girls!! LOL

Fireblossom said...

Thanks, sister mine!

Kelly Dickson said...

~tee hee~ flashes a babyK smile

And that is all i will say! lol


Fireblossom said...


oh YOU. lol!