Rylla Barrland
Joe Strickland 1986 (Hobbysville, SC)
Scarlett O'Hara was a woman
Of fire and passion.
As a gifted cosmetologist,
She had an eye
For beauty
And a talent
For transforming
Her clients
Into breathtaking
Works of art.
But strangely,
She despised this talent.
It was as if
She resisted
Her own light,
Preferring to hide it
Under a bushel
Rather than let it
Shine forth
For all to see.
And then there was the man
With the star
And the treasure map.
They were his only religion.
He worshipped
The idea
And fantasy
Of their potential
And future.
He was a day drinking atheist poet
Who wandered the roads
Of the deep South,
Seeking out
The mysteries of life
And the beauty
Of the natural world.
He was a man
Who lived outside
The shackles
Of convention,
Free to roam
Where his heart led him.
And when Scarlett
And this man
Came together,
Sparks flew.
For Scarlett,
The poet was
A breath of fresh air,
A man who could see
The beauty in her talent
And help her appreciate it.
For the poet,
Scarlett was
A rare bird,
A vision of loveliness
Who captured his heart
And his imagination.
Together,
They explored
The world
Around them,
Seeking out
Hidden treasures
And sharing
Their innermost
Secrets.
They laughed,
They danced,
They argued,
And they loved.
Their bond
Was one of mutual respect,
Deep admiration,
And a fierce devotion
To one another.
They were two souls
Who had come together
In a place
Where love
And beauty
Intertwined,
And they knew
That they
Were meant to be together,
Forever.
Font size:
Written on June 28, 2023
Submitted by JoeStrickland on June 28, 2023
- 1:44 min read
- 6 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | aabxbbcdcbebxbbbfbxe gxxabbefhbxxBxbbgbxaxx bghibjxebb bjbdba hbbxBxcbxbbbbbbaahxhxxbbixhh |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic dimeter |
Characters | 1,525 |
Words | 347 |
Stanzas | 5 |
Stanza Lengths | 20, 22, 10, 6, 28 |
Translation
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Rylla Barrland" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 23 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/162936/rylla-barrland>.
Discuss the poem Rylla Barrland with the community...
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In