The Day She Gave Birth To Bluebells And Buttercups

Her soul pressed-back, rigidly,
amongst the gnarly, old roots
of her ‘Witnessing’ Ancestors.
The stretching sunshine
only reached in, sporadically,
to tickle her left big toe,
in comfort, and encouragement.
She was absolutely sick to death
of tasting ‘Moss’,
but, it was helping lots.
and she defiantly SWORE!
very loudly, and no one tutted,
or shook disapproving heads.
Three colour-changes later
and she finally Blossomed…
a magical carpet-of-life
erupted out
from her aching insides.
And, she gasped,
in both awe and discomfort,
as Springtime Lightning
quickly severed the delicate tie…
freeing Mother
to properly embrace her Creation.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer who deals in the Lowlife, Outsider, and Outlaw genres.  He wrote his first poem as a teenager following his release from the (Infamous) Borstal ‘HMP Portland’, and he has been creating Literary Terrorism ever since. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.