Joseph P. DiMino Poet Free verse

One Wild Flower

A wild flower, grew up through
a crack in the pavement, I wondered,
why already not trampled
by so many preoccupied feet?  

Sat I down on a 
park-bench, further pondering this yellow
charmer, to which I cordially gave greet -- 

“little tenant,” oh just missed another!

Thinking I saw it, knowingly parry aside;

(one wild flower, persistent, determined
not its beauty to hide.)  

Unaware came a team of training joggers, 
in colorful, striped briefs; legs and tennis shoes 
thoughtlessly-trouncing-everywhere – 

Feared I this brave little trooper had finally been
dealt its fatal wild share -- the wind of the runners' healthful,
self-indulgent passing, seemed more a cyclone of careless, 
petulant stomping – no sense a little blossom would
they spare! 

Deeply rooted in soil, it could not retreat, without vocal
cords it could not plead a shriek – could not shield itself 
from such crushing, annihilating defeat.

Sat there I a sad bit longer -- would not dare open my eyes, felt
a tear slipping, my heart seeming knee-deep in morbid dripping. 
Smeared blossom, and grieving sunbeams, saw I like a funeral's
dark-arm-band – a segment of my bright world, had just tragically
ended...gone with the lone blossom's, last futile, floral stand – 

till a child opened my eyes, making me take peak,

a sweet little voice, not the least tinge bleak, as they carefully parted: “Oh
mother, isn’t that dandelion so dashingly chic!?

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Hilda Greenhough March 7, 2024 at 8:38 PM Poem kept me entranced. I liked the happy ending. Joseph P. DiMino March 8, 2024 at 7:28 AM And that one blossom, one lone blossom, is now the mystic talk of National Park, seeming protected through both light and dark -- like tree-hearts by their enfolding bark, like the domed-nest of mother lark.... Most of us feel some dutiful, loving angel in our lives.

Valsa George March 6, 2024 at 8:22 PM Sad that the little flower despite being wild was able to parade her beauty, but was trampled by footloose joggers. How beautifully and empathetically you have dealt with her untimely death. "the wind of the runners' healthful, self-indulgent passing, seemed more a cyclone of careless, petulant stomping – no sense a little blossom would they spare! " Because of the neglect of indiscreet and thoughtless people, how many lives which should have been blazed are put out. Into my FAVE. Joseph P. DiMino March 7, 2024 at 10:18 AM Thank you, Valsa; you made my day. Blessings!!

Silent One March 6, 2024 at 12:27 PM Hey Joe, for me your poem evokes a sense of empathy and sorrow for the wildflower's struggle against human indifference and the harshness of its surroundings. The speaker's emotional response to witnessing the flower's potential demise highlights the fragile beauty of life and the cruelty of neglect.. Its a moving exploration of the human experience, resilience, and the capacity for hope and beauty in the face of adversity... Joseph P. DiMino March 6, 2024 at 2:45 PM The wild flower...the ice that clings to the sill in light of spring...a heart that clings to a ring -- though the other's affections have moved on. Thank you Si. Blessings my friend.

Vijay Pandit March 6, 2024 at 10:40 AM A story of flower that is determined to survive, no matter the hardship it endures. You told it well, Joe-had me glued to your page to find out what happened. Fabulous ending--they are sturdy--they survive it all! Joseph P. DiMino March 6, 2024 at 2:48 PM Aren't we all...when we cling to faith in someone far loftier than all minds and hearts combined. Thank you for your continued encouragement, Vijay -- Blessings my friend.