Okay i have to tell the story that accompanies this poem . . . if you do not wish to read it dont but it is the resoning behind the piece.
I went shopping in Harbour town yesterday. So i dont wear skinny leg jeans, skimpy tops and boob holders when i go out. . .in fact i own none of those items. . .so what do i get. . .disgusted looks from people as i shop around for presents and clothes.
The incident that prompted this piece happened n the Merchant Tea House. My sisters, mum and i had finished coffee and were leaving. We walked past this older lady, fairly large with bottle blonde hair and bad regrowth. . .and she was wearing a bright pink floral shirt. . .to me she looked like a walking flower shop gone outta business. But i didn't say anything, didn't give a look of any sort. i merely noticed her as i walked past. If she hadn't turned around and blantly followed me out of teh coffee shop, staring at me with the most disgusting look on her face i probably wouldn't even have remeber her. But she looked as if i had poisned the air she was breathing and she was choking on it . . . If i had had any inkling of a bad mood she would have got it from me but i simply walked past, out of the shop and round the corner, out of the food hall and into a CD store. My mother broached the topic inside the music store. Everyone had noticed her watching me.
People are simply closed minded or scared. . .or both. I'm sorry for the long explanation but if you read it this piece may make more sense. . .if not you're interpretations would be interesting. . .
Busy as bee hives in spring.
Shoppers flitter from one flower to the next,
Like humming bees , collecting pollen,
on colours and smells
Black and green,
Her flower had not wilted,
But was coming into full bloom
Her stem strong and green,
Long and powerful and strong
The others The flowers
all stared as she walked by.
Her head held tall, and proud
She was not a dying breed, no.
She was not like the others wistful,
She was unique,
She did not care
for their disgusted glances
as she floated by.
Tall and proud she continued,
Collecting not the pollen of other flowers
Exchanging no gossip or thoughts
She simply looked around,
Floating back and forth
She took little pollen home that day
To her land beyond natures market place
She refused to bow to society’s dictated disgust.