Self Portrait


early  (with false hair)


later with the real hair


She fell from a tall tall  tree

And landed near the sea

The wild winds and water set her free

To float about without an oar

Nor wings on which to soar

She wasn’t missed or wanted anymore

But just bobbed about for years and years

withering away in salty tears

Hearing only jabbing jeers

but the Spirit  of that nut lay within

weathered and gray with a frail stipend

still humming a faint echo of the Spirit wind.

That big ole nut did crack and began

to grow

The light came in and began to glow

The stories and songs began to flow…

The tall tall trees smothered and drowned

But stuck to their ground

While that little nut floated all around.


The juicy fruit  dried up

Wrinkles gnawed the shell

never a tall tall tree would

that nut grow to be.

undaunted, cracked it shares

from shore to shore

lore that only a nut can tell.


About priscillacpoupore

old grey nag who's not done yet Relishing the study of the Chakras these days and connecting with fascinating spirits all around the world. When home in West Texas, Bill and I are working on our Strawbale house. We share lives with three burros, a Mustang and two cats.
This entry was posted in 4 Wondering Wanderers, Cook Islands, poetry, Priscilla C. Poupore and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Self Portrait


    Cleverly and beautifully crafted, Priscilla, just like you are right down to your nut-brown toes.

    Love the pic, poem and person.

  2. Polly says:

    Fabulous, Mom, just like you! I love that you are always creating!!!

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