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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Fashion · #2219182
A poetic description of a fashionista's life ....
celebrated Lady

A Bird of Paradise is so much more
than say an exotic flower, a wealth
of perpetual beauty and erotic power.
She will fly where your imagination
takes to greater heights, plucking
sweet nothings from your heart's
tender vault.

These birds upon the broad white beaches
in the depths of the Deep South's strands,
here she walks upon the lighter sands past
me, wearing oranges and yellows, beige or
royal purples. She struts in telling fashion
that foretells her passion for sunsets and
pelicans, open Jeeps with rusted jerry cans
partially-filled with petrol in case one
runs out with a rising, brusque tide now
touching tires...

She lives in a kind of Maui Jim world,
eschews most plastic items whose sick
pthalates poison us silently and without
slightest remorse. She is a lithesome
creature who braves the paparazzi daily
without a word, smiles for them but
briefly and knows that the path of
least resistance often is the best
of ways.

In the south of France, she does what
most women do and like brave doves who
enjoy a topless day that stirs up storms
of protest from the gray-haired men who
work jobs at The Firm ... yet even so ...
she is resolved to live Life larger all
the same.

The people sympathetic to her causes know
and respect not the idea but the fact
that a sparkplug of a person's personality
graces them with photos of her travails and
travels, complete with personable shadows
as she of a habit drops in and samples the
heartfelt traditions of a people
far away.

Or sometimes close to home.
Ne'ertheless, when in Rome ...

We get to travel with this bird of Paradise
who seeks out the intimate side streets,
the carved statues and splendid ruins of both
Roman and Greek cultures in a mere heartbeat,
giving us the impression that here's a bird's
eye view of a place we otherwise would be
blinded to, and are grateful for the fact
that she took us there in resplendent style
of day.

Yes, like Frost says - perhaps it is this path
that diverged in a wood - but sometimes she takes
the path MOST traveled by and it still makes much
difference. To her. To us. Along with the photographs
she narrates her world when not surrounded by other,
modeling girls and women of great means and greater
causes. We live in extraordinary times ... and there
upon the beaches of bright, colorful flesh - with
great big busts sculpted as if by Italy's best, for
now we see the waves arriving and departing, waves
coming and going ... thrusting people outward and
inward in a mass converging of colors, sun tan lotion,
sea salt and the sweat of untold many.

We are reminded that she is a celebrated Lady
and a human being at once, and we read her words and
feel gifted further for she takes us to more than just
those places, but also delves into their meaning
as well. One could sculpt her graceful presence and be
the richer for it for the impressionists would recognize
that the gods generously gave her likeness an appeal
to the World. And the World sat up ...
and took notice.
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