Ileana fascinated herself with language,
but nobody ever called her poetry hotline
so she began to practice
standing still until roots
sprouted from the souls of her feet
and anchored her to the floorboards.
Just as papery golden bark began to shroud
itself around Ileana’s delicate frame,
the phone rang.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wrote this from a picture prompt at One Stop Poetry. Visit the link for other people’s take on the picture. This is a poem in 55 words, including the title.
brenda warren
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Fantastic response. Like the transformation you capture. It truly fits the photo. Those front bells reinforce your idea. And in 55! Cool how you also infuse the phone number in the photo. Guess you never know what is going to happen from a love of language!
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Thanks. It was the phone number in the photo that gave me the idea for the poem. My dad always said he found my name on the bathroom wall at the hospital when my mom was in labor. It said, “for a good time call Brenda.” My mom swears he’s lying and he just laughs.
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A unique poem, Brenda. I do think sometime, in the middle of the night, there would be a call for a poetry hotline! I will have to write down the number. LOL.
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I completely agree, Mary. Someone, somewhere would call. I hate phones, always have. Oh man, do I sound like an ornery old lady. I text, therefore it’s cool.
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um, i might need to call…smiles. nice unique take on the prompt…and yes the typo does add…
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it just might be a money maker…
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The “souls” of her feet. Gotta love that!
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I know! Thanks for bringing your colorful face here, it brightens the page.
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how cool…we should start a poetry hotline…love this brenda…
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I never answer my phone. LOL
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I just noticed my typo on soles of her feet. I’m keeping it there. Some typos add something to the mix.
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