Niagara.

Nature's velvet crush
will shed illicit beauty-
the devil's promise.

When she cries, her presence
opens up like crackled journal
pages where waves of self
rejection dot the ink's lining.
Midnight in Rome has never
appeared greedy before,
but she glares as a bride
dirties her dress in the public
square, a ringless finger held
smugly underneath the eye of
the Vatican.

Life was never supposed
to be fatal vows.

If art could talk,
there would be no more
confused illusions about beauty
being visible.

Just because she is sky,
does not mean there is not worth
hidden, a tenacity that often
quakes if temperatures and climates
stop warming her pages,
and each storm obliterates
one more word she yearns to
control...

instead, nature writes her laws,
telling her evil is rewarded by
commiting, ending periods
with periods, giving exclamation
points on the occasion that
she is never correctly referenced.

But eventually, hate surrenders,
and she will not be stuck in black holes,
fenced-in clouds, and whipping posts...

she will emerge, bringing what
mountains, cliffs, rapids
always have-
the motivation to run, ascend
higher and higher as she
still searches for a truer definition
of nature's meaning.

She will burst forth like souls
marching on, as each country
tunes out the rushing water sound
that would drown their overconfidence
and disorientation, finally chanting
what holds them back.

Some most dive in to face the
thoughts preconceived as altruistic;
written between the crevices of her
skin, she maps out wilderness,
moving about the planet to taste
what is vital
in this strawberry summer.

-

Written 8/02/13 @ 12:02 PM

Baby Rainbow's challenge from these random prompts:
[I combined two challenges]

1)
tenacity
the devil's promise
strawberry summer
confused illusions
when she cries
velvet crush

Strawberry summer must be the ending of the poem

AND

there must be at least one stanza of the poem as a senryu/haiku

2)
Hate surrenders
visible
waves of self rejection
if art could talk
evil is rewarded
fatal vows