Best Pistils Poems

Stamens and pistils 
delicately poised
Shamans and pistols 
making too much noise 
Soft buzz preferred, 
a silencer’s desired
Pollinator’s sense 
the triggers just fired

Nectar brings balance 
agape open wide
Willing the seeker 
to do laps inside
Comes with a snag 
also stitch in the side 
Fulcrum of a rose...

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How did a cherry kiss? Bitter flower petals with sweet pistils.
So laden they act as halos while we breathe the love
in a pink hollow, silence sounding like taste, acting like epistle
to hold this moment in a silvery image, like moon, or  dove
low, low, a...

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Splatter painted, Pollock blessed, leggy I stand,
among the green grass and healing Plantain
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.

A walking canvas in the meadowland
stems, humorously stippled to entertain  
splatter painted, Pollock blessed; leggy I stand.

Blush brushed by daylight, a cheeky garland; 
a stand bloomed within...

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Spray your love in the masochistic mist, 
shapely satisfying the illicit itch...
With handcuffs upon the wicked wrist, 
narcotic nectars that will bewitch…
Salacious secretions that must assist, 
appeasing appetites that shall enrich...
Salivating on parts hardly ever kissed,
exploring erotica within its niche…

Licentious desires amidst negligent night,
engulfing erections...

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Morning Glories dance with ease
trumpet flowers among weeds
twirling petals pirouette 
with a dainty, shy coquette. 

Swirling purples blend to white 
pistils are a bee’s delight 
glory visions, how they rise
from low canyons to grand skies.

Flowers dance to nature’s tune
crickets chirp and songbirds croon
lively leaves rustle,...

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STEEL AND SILK

My love like steel and silk
      cuts through you 
            splutters your blood
              ...

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"Immaculate"

I’d like to write something 
beautiful for once,
divinely dripping with honey
and milk that washes white 
like stamen juice over the uncut,
the bees all come to drink 
the heady dew, 
stroking their black down 
over dusky aubergine-eyed 
blue forget-me-knots,
the nots touched by thorns
those slippery rosary beads...

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Although flowers bloom it’s awkward to say that they are flowers
because they are not flowers, but thorns disguised as yellow pistils 
and stamens surrounded by the petals made of pieces of colorless
paper. Moreover, their fragrance bears no meaning at all because 
they bloom in the...

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Picasso painted me ugly.
Two lips slung over a rusted hanger.
One eyebrow burnt for attention's sake.
Let's tell Grandma how much fun we had today.
Picasso is still at work.

Monet swallowed your stupidity.
Five teeth missing and nary a barbed retort to bend.
One un-photographed smile was left behind.
Let's tell...

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Their fiery blossoms swayed against the sky
In breezy weather and Mama and I
played games, describing how
the long, gold-tipped pistils wrote,
on air, sweeping pollen poems.
No eye that saw could help but read.
Their blooms were red against the green,
And in the early morning wet we deemed
We saw...

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Petunias share shades of blue
with velvet centers gilded gold.
And white pinstripes enhance each hue,
marking petals vivid and bold.

Roses boast scented scarlet swirls
with crimson centers at their hearts.
And velvety, magenta curls
that exceed the sum of their parts.

Tulips mimic majestic bells,
flaunting colors from plum to fawn.
And their...

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While I'm reading a poem about it on the previous page
the girls come over to visit their boyfriends and dance
in high shoes and perfume. Their legs are strong and their voices high.
And the guys get high and hard thinking about what the girls are like
     ...

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Bud of a flower,
open, reveal thy beauty,
and color our eyes.

I cannot picture,
this earth without your presence,
you are needed in life.

Your plant family,
400,000 species,
grass, daisy, orchid, are some.

Remnants of you, see,
your kingdom trace back to a,
Jurassic era.

now embrace sunshine,
attract guests with your color,
that they might find...

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She’s not for burning

Remnant of dried out pistils
If burnt
May fill nooks and corners
With their inimitable fragrance
But that doesn’t look aesthetic
Rather disparaging towards
Fascinating gift of nature;

History witnessed
Whether for genuine demand or
Otherwise fake societal dignity
Whatever businesses under the sun
We put our woman To
Like mad blacksmith
We blew the...

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Ecstasy shivering in musical keys
Squeezing, compressing melodies
Relaxing., exhaling an ode to the joy
Echoes of delight, pistils and pollen
Breeze succumbs to whispers benevolent

I open my petals...the clouds are angry

Emptiness  fades the dreams of gardens
The Sun? ...just  a Mirage... a prism in the desert
Sculpting naked...

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