A Poem, a Photo, an Iris Silky White

Archey Fork Park 30 Apr 2006 004

An Iris Bouquet

In waters of the Little Red
a gift swirls in suspense–
pretty present for a maiden–
selected by a daring prince.

At a crossing near the rapids
where canoes can suddenly spin,
the Prince dropped an Iris bouquet
far below the river’s bend.

The swift current claimed the present
chosen for his mountain queen,
refused then to release it
from the bottom of the stream.

The wild and bubbling current
defied the Prince’s charms
and gripped his darling’s present
tightly in its mighty arms.

Silky white and purple petals–
nurtured in the Ozark suns–
drifting now to far-off places
where the wild Red River runs.

© Freeda Baker Nichols

I Am a Poetess, Mama . . .

DSC_0040I am a poetess, Mama;
I wish I were a queen
having tea with diplomats
in a rose-trimmed garden scene.

I am a poetess, Mama;
I wish I were a clown,
wearing a smile, wide and bright,
to hide my solemn frown.

I am a poetess, Mama;
I wish I were his wife —
the only role worth playing
in the grand opera of life.

© Copyright, Freeda Baker Nichols