Imaginary Garden

 Over in the Imaginary Garden, Kenia gave us an assignment to write a poet, on a poet we didn't embrace. She asked us to use a line in one of their poems that attracted our attention, drew our respect.

 Mary gave us an assignment to write a poem about the two sided coin. The view of two points of view. I decided, to combine both.  For Kenia's challenge, I used Turkish Poet, Oktay Rifat's poem THE WIFE. 

This is what I selected that spoke to me:

  We are halves of the same apple 

Our day and night, our homes, are one.  ~ Oktay Rifat

Story of the applesby ~mahirates

 Myddle Earth

Yes, my word my middle, lol

Humanity blurred

two souls united 

one knows death, the fractures the detour the destined road

she knows disease and the beauty n' despair of its voice

he knows clean, toss and throw

 severe lessons if goals not carried out

he knows abuse

she knows creative

she knows how time changes goals

how death creates an unique view

how disease like a volcano

erupts and creates another path

he knows a different volcano

piles disturb your process and make mine dance

I want to enjoy my time alive

I know the dance of death

you know the dance of everything in its place

I see the bigger view

you see the crumbs on the floor the

fingerprints on the stainless steel

I see the beauty calling me to go outside

 We are halves of the same apple
Our day and night, our homes, are one.  

you are tart, tougher skin

I'm maybe too sweet, to likely to give in

I like calm, happy

you like order

you see the leaf indoors, the cobwebs on the umbrella tree

I see the inspiration in my head

you see the mess

you want tidy

I want to be Miss Muffet

I see beauty in motes, paint chips

and dried herbs

 you see work

 your perfume

is Windex blue

your white gloves

distract my dance of inspired

if you don't leave me bee

I might just Windex you!

You view clouds mine

you block my sun, sometimes

you swipe the dust motes dancing in the sun

I embrace them, collect their memories, 

cat n' nine tails fluff

you curse it

I take photos of it's charm

You want it clean

I want time

You  want everything in it's place

I want you to build me shelves

for this place

organize my creations

You think I collect too much

I think your view too narrow

I think you waste time on clean

I want to dance in the moonlight

and enjoy the magic a day brings

you want to Endust it all

You need Glinda's bubble

 enjoy your view

I want my bubble to burst and run free

embrace the outdoors,  the fresh, the ripeness

I want to enjoy the world

I'm trying meet you in the myddle

clean till I think my fingerprinted soul is lost

my time is not mine

someone always says they will do and then

they leave

I hold the bag, the dust pan and the flour

measured moments lost

clean till I can't smell anything but fumes

lost dreams 

what I am suppose to be...

lost in the vapors of your wishes, your life

where is the happy road of me

stuck in the myddle

* My husband and I trying to clean is like meeting in a busy intersection. We are still working on some home improvement projects, so I went in this direction.   He grew up with everything in it's place. I grew up with my Dad dying. Both parents being creative and encouraging me to be. Our home was clean, but not exactly everything in its place.

 "Life is too short to smell like Windex." ~Ellen Wilson 

Middle of the roadby ~fruitloops008