IGWRT's Wednesday Challenge - "Endure" & Friday Flash 55 "The Ocean"

For "Mr. Know-it-All" two Friday Flash 55's this week!

Endure

My world often tilts
out of control.

"Endure", whispers Granny
willing me strength.

The next time

I'll grasp hold
of branches bent low

fall, roll
with the hedge apple,
thorns and lances
protective,

swirl, spin
upon Red River's current

or arch through time,
flung skyward
by tree's nimble bow,
and soar

towards a future,
free.

by Margaret Bednar, Art Happens 365, January 26, 2012

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This is my contribution to Imaginary Garden with Real Toad's "Wednesday Challenge" prompt, which is to write a "futuristic" poem.  This first brought to mind space ships and aliens, but I decided to try to use my photos from my recent walk to "Tannenbaum Historical Park".  The portrait and hanging fruit photos are from two years ago.

I am not sure if I truly did a futuristic poem.  Is longing for the future enough to make it so?  It seemed to me that poet Nazim Hikmet did this - wrote about a better future.  Click on IGWRT's link to read about him.  

If you would like to know more about this intriguingly hardy fruit tree (Hedge Apple or Osage Orange), click HERE.  This unique fruit is most bountiful in Oklahoma and Texas along the Red River.  The Osae used it's strong, pliant branches for bows and the settlers often used it for a "living" fence.  It must be carefully maintained (trimmed) or it's fruit and thorns will overtake an area.

* * * * *

The following image and poem I wrote for a Poetry Jam prompt (topic: sensual) and reposted here for  Mr. Know-it-All's "Friday Flash 55" - a non-fiction story in 55 words, no more, no less (I will link up Thursday after 8pm)

The Ocean

Sinewy arms, pail laden

I sleepwalk towards the barn.

Nature's morning breath

inhaled,

moistly kissing me awake

from a dream

I'm unwilling to release...

   like sandpaper

   against my flesh

   his memory,

   passion aroused,

   long buried

   endearments

   tickle my ear,

   needs whispered,

   upon my tongue

   his saltiness...

a single tear

escapes

joining an ocean of regret.

by Margaret Bednar, Art Happens 365, January 25, 2012