On the walls of his heart were paintings
like on some ancient French cave
not some hunter, bow in hand,
chasing an extinct antelope but
tall trees with tiny birds flitting in and out
strewn about at the base of the trees
were their fragrant seeds
that looked like little buttons
and if you tugged at these buttons
his heart would come undone
Tasmanian Blue Gum tree (Eucalyptus Globulus)
Globulus: means “little button” in Latin
1 comment:
With this poem "Little Buttons" Brian Bielefeld has tugged at my heart strings. I entered a foreign & mystical land that I was happy to be in. The imagery of a heart as a land that could actually be occupied by paintings and then when you entered the paintings you are taken even deeper, sent me off to this place(wherever it was) with great interest. I felt I was there somehow, in that forest with those birds, I can still hear their calls. I could see those seeds and smell their fragrance, "strewn about the base of the trees were their fragrant seeds". The poem is sparse yet filled with detail. How did he manage this delicate balance? He has a romantic and intelligent hand that makes the task seem easy.
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