Individual

She was never one for pastels, her colours were bold
too volatile to have ever been considered demure
she screamed when others merely whispered
it was not her intention to offend, it was just her way

August bought forth a fiercely individual spirit
she couldn't, wouldn't, dull her shine for anyone
her voltage was high, she contained the electricity
but you could still hear it, popping and crackling

Under the shiny surface a golden heart was beating
as it pumped the ruby red lifeblood through her veins
Dancing flames licked around her head, a fiery halo
while all around her ankles the angry ocean roared

She walked the winding road, with bells on her fingers
and rings on her toes, painted toenails gleaming against
the rich dark earth, a carefully thought out disguise
that fluttered through the blank pages awaiting her pen

She came alive when poured into words, she breathed...
sentences became her tree lined avenues of expression
and houses filled with buddhas and peacock feathers
sprung fully formed from her swift and elegant fingers


- Susannah Bec 2010

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Written for a prompt, the task - use the words - demure, offend, volatile
Taken from my prompt writing blog - Panopticulated