Here's a poem written by my American friend, poet and artist Marcella Brown. I'm off to Sligo to see the lovely Martha and while deciding what bag to bring, I remembered this poem which Marcella sent me recently. That's my bag! Yay!
THE MUSTARD PURSE
I wonder how it feels
to be a mustard purse,
to hold the secrets precious to a woman.
The color makes me quiver
from the inner sanctum of my eye.
I have to touch this mustard purse
just to hold its grassy hue.
I'd like to be a mustard purse
so I could be caressed and held,
hung and slung,
opened and undone,
guarding coins and pens and books,
stashing buried notes
...and poet's quotes.
fantastic poem! very visual even without the image. I want to touch the mustard purse! Love it!
ReplyDeletefab looking 'purse' too, have a great time with Martha
x
Hope you're having a great time, Nuala. Love the poem and the bag (that beautifully soft, squashy leather in a warm, ochre-y shade ... well chosen!).
ReplyDeleteEnjoying your blog. Thank you! Slan, Minnie x.
Marcy is an artist too - hence the visual quality, Kar.
ReplyDeleteMinnie - thank you. We had a lovely time though it was stormy. It ALWAYS rains when we go to Sligo!