Harmony of Hydrangeas
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written for favorite teacher hosted by Karen J
“The teacher who is indeed wise does not bid you to enter the house of his wisdom but rather leads you to the threshold of your mind” Kahlil Gibran.
I remember being lost,
like the honey-gold rays
of an apricot sunset hidden behind
obsidian loops of fiery thunder,
when citrine stars shivered
and melted into thick mists of burning rain.
I was a scribbler, bleeding rants
over a cracked canvas of
cluttered calligraphy,
oblivious to the butterfly dawn
veiled beneath tangled tercets
and mournful metaphors,
until I found a glistening ladder
to the mauve moon.
There, futile verses spun in vain
turned into amethyst alliterations,
and my fragile fingers
unfurled odes to the shimmering sky,
learning what it’s like to be
a poet with a digital pen.
Love is more than lilacs and lavenders
blooming amidst a twirl
of kaleidoscopic dews;
it stretches beyond the definition of a noun;
it serves as a selfless savior,
revealing prompts beyond superficial beams.
And I, in my silent sanctuary
of resonant sonatas,
harmonized the purple and porcelain keys
to compose a sanguine symphony
of healing hydrangeas,
as the Universe unfolded
a gossamer silhouette of sonnets
with the most exquisite elixir.
Life without the melody of love and light
would be a cavern of darkness,
hindering my ink from seeing the silver
that floats above seas of scattered grief.
O beloved savior,
if I were to write in pigments stolen
from the dulcet essence of dazzling dialects,
woven in seclusion,
would the world believe you are my mentor,
the roseate reason
behind my rustic rhyme,
the magnolia muse of
my melancholic musings?
Would these words be enough to praise
and express?
For when a poetic preacher
sows herbs of hope,
planting phrases of faith
in cashmere credence,
an orchard of orchids and luminous lilies
would thrive and strive in eloquence
amidst the woeful winters
and somber summers…
So let this poem unravel hints
of tangerine truth,
illustrating how crimson colors
between these lyrical lines
have painted my weary world
in periwinkle sparkles
of seamless elegance.
For poetry adorned my realm
with fearless feathers of freedom,
to transcribe unspoken tales
in turquoise and teal,
flowing as seraphic
synonyms of serenity.
Copyright © Ink Empress | Year Posted 2024
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