And flowers wilt.
And flowers fade.
The eternity is only in me-
The twig that bears the flowers.
Sparrows are born
And sparrows die.
And brighten the sky.
That who nurtures sparrows is me-
A cozy make of a twig upon a twig.
The sun fades
And moon is born.
The twilight blurs
And moonlight spreads.
All the soothing moonlight beams are me-
A crisscross of unfathomed twigs.
Whether in its birth
Or in its death;
In the heart
Of its heart;
The entire beauty is none but one-
A design of mysterious twigs.
As the time passes by season to season. I wait and wonder if this flower will ever grow. Planted so
many times what seemed to be the right place , but once again it was not right at all. Struggling to
blossom so it can show its color and beauty to the one that matters most of all. Thirsting for the warmth
of the sun , starving for the attention , not really asking for much at all. So many times it felt so right ,
but things would change so quickly in the middle of the night and all would be lost. Slowly it would wither
till there was no hope of blossoming one day. As the time passes by tears fill my eyes and there is nothing
left to say. I only know that this flower will grow , but not this way. It must be cared for and understood ,
loved and nourished so it will blossom and grow stronger , more beautiful then any flower you've ever known.
Will this flower ever grow? This is something I do not know. Sad as it may seem, it's even sadder to me , That I
am that flower that will never grow , didn't you know ?
The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes. Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.
‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
this flower bed,
is just for you.
Among the stone,
and in the mud,
a flower shone,
a beautiful bud.
It grew so tall,
proud and strong,
it learned all,
right and wrong.
Giving it water,
and warm sun,
your only daughter,
learned about fun.
Mommy come see,
look what I did,
now I can be,
a grownup kid.
This flower bed,
is just for you,
with roses, red,
and violets, blue.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom!
Her drafted shape (my thought) appeared aside the cloudy rainbow,
so gracefully on ether walked; romantic apparition,
as she was holding an umbrella that was smiling yellow,
and neath the clouds she visited my mindful recognition.
Amid the mist I saw her smile, rhapsodical emission,
she flew above, inside the dew, her vernal laughter blithesome,
caressed the promises of years before, adorned contrition
the bells then rang but very far, her bright umbrella's spectrum.
And I embraced her as I should, before time's definition,
the daffodils embellishing our dusk, but not the morrow
oh, how two souls had fled along our blooming last rendition,
while that umbrella covered hence, her inward raining sorrow.
© 03-31-2014, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic decapentasyllabic verse)
Sponsor: Leonora Galinta
Contest Name: Poem with a theme of "Umbrella"
The Rose innocent white, soft pink, yellows
colors touch your soul vibrant red to amethyst
enhances beauty yet a thorn awaits to break skin
as life does piercing your heart with a thin pin.
My life has shed drops of blood through each petal
as if in return for the love and beauty you feel
hence pain underneath patiently waits the bloodletting ~
The rose symbolizes love yet vulnerable to hold
for when you open your heart it can be left bleeding
The best of surgeons can not beat your heart
It is the inner faith and God himself whom gives strength
whispers in your ear you shall live you will exist
your life meaningful as the water and sun to the rose
For I am your God your existence is not over yet .
You must Live ~You must Bloom
Its charm, its bloom
A gift of spring breeze
Something not oozing from heart
Something borrowed doesn’t last
The Black butterfly waves away her adorations
All she seeks is seclusion, subsuming slave to mortification
The Dear Air is all she can breath, captive of imaginary dreams
The Beacon resonates, but the hope isolates
The Wasteland's silky fingers caressing the virgin's face
So she is now, the covet of the damned
Programmed to every victim's pain
Carrying the weight of every sorrow
Drowning in wrongs she does not know
But paradise is at loss; she must go
Nature sighs after the bite
All my hopes fading
Don't look at me with those sorrowful eyes
How do you know exactly what I'm feeling?
I'm just the ghost flower passing by
And you can hear nature's sigh
I do not know?
My Wishes are Simple
My wishes are simple,
my desires few,
to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.
My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,
to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.
My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,
my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,
healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.
The Silent Garden
Blowin in the breeze
I bob and bow and flex my leaves
I am a garden-- for all to admire
the one you visit often
You see my beauty,
I never say a word.
You could have visited
and enjoyed my genus,
but you plucked out the
strongest and most beatific.
As your wisdom showed itself sallow
next to the colors that emoted
from your emotions. Red all red.
Out of control you have
selfishly removed me.
Never do I recover;
As you Placed me in a vase,
with stale water and no sunlight.
I withered under your care.