If You Lost It
Then You Lost
Only Love For
It's Incredible
Beauty!
Abruptly.
-Gray Squirret
05-27-2026
(“Tapestry”, 2025, original encaustic)
Late Bloomer
It wasn’t until I was half my age
That I came into my own
And finally felt whole.
Now at sixty six
I’m not sure what you’d call
The way I feel.
Over the hill
Ripe in a hard cider way
Nobody going nowhere.
But there is peace
In having been there, done that
And gotten over the need for more.
Knowing in my bones
What a long strange trip
It has always been.
(4/6/25)
Skinny in youth thick in later days
Champion for truth despite delays
As a late bloomer in thought process
Born to a baby boomer and so blessed
Believed in God but didn’t get much church
Felt so odd how the church clicks work
Rather open to explore other fuchsia faiths
Went to the mosque just couldn’t be great
And with Buddhism she felt all a glow
But she still identified as a Christian so
Perhaps it’s true train up a child
But her training was unique and mild
For she recalled Bootsy’s Rubber Band
And Stevie Nicks, Stevie Wonder on hand
Music was the church in her life
She was a cool nerd never a wife
A poet who sucked at math in her head
But like a mom stretched a penny till it’s dead
Had many jobs, but a mom and proud to be
Not afraid of death for it is purple peace
I'm starting at the finish line,
Head spins, blood flushes through
Adrenaline bolting than sound.
Am I late blooming?
Dried Leaves seem young.
Ecstasies dance off my guts.
As I dine to the feel of butterflies
While being swept off my feet
My heart now leads my brain.
The suspense of romance persists.
Obvious mistakes embed to the core.
I guess I'm losing control.
Entanglement of emotions,
The fear to hurt is now the compass.
As the globe shrinks so small
I guess I'm a late bloomer.
red rose ploy seen as
“bloomer,” blue mood wallflower’s
strategy backfires!
Date posted : 7th February 2021
Late bloomer in old body.
To whom made me live mortality-
Somehow felt I'm somebody--
Mistook defect from abnormality-
I give words, with their eyes of pity--
Words in various dimension,
Their Humpty Dumpty conclusion.
Invisibility of words-
I befriended poems--
It's hide and seek-
Who sees, it's a mystique!
i cry at the thought of heartbreak
i speed in the hopes to create a kaleidoscope alternative
i crash to make the illusion last forever
i die dreaming of you loving me
as i cross over
i become a dark artist painting light images
i look for a penny, but i can't find the fuse box of my sanity
suddenly, it is the third day and i do not remember a thing
it is then that i learn the definition of unconditional love
it is then that i understand the inner making of my broken heart
it is then that a realize that i had no comprehension beyond the satisfaction of my self
it is then that i reality hits me in the head like a hot anvil with cold thorns
it is then that i discover to late.....that it is indeed too late.....
There was a spaceman called Mork
Who tried a train for New York
He thought the trip too far
Hopped right onto a car
Upon which he came to Cork
She is awakened by the heavy rain
when summer bids adieu.
Intense excitement, eager to sustain,
hits home, and right on cue
from hibernation slowly finds her way
to where the waiting sun
extends a welcome for a blissful stay:
a greeting not to shun.
Autumn Narcissus – fragrance fills the air.
A fleeting presence – ours a brief affair.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Writing Challenge, October 2019 -Flower-
Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode
Posted on 21st October 2019
Missing a glimpse of her
Was just as bad as being late.
My feeling flown all over the place.
The punctuality of being at the exact place at the right time.
Missing this glance everything falls out of place.
The sudden challenge of tomorrow.
Being on time, this moment left behind.
Admittedly I hurried the next moment.
To miss the same glance.
My feelings all over the place.
To think, flowers are never as late as they seem
Wake up! snow’s a thawing
Robin’s eager, getting dressed
Wake up! wind’s withdrawing
You’ve now had your winter’s rest
Bless us as you flourish
In your colors, every hue
Bless us as you nourish
And you blossom into view
Sweet bloomer, by my pardon
Wake up! you sleepy head
Come now and grace my garden
And do make my flower bed
healthy and happy
though a late bloomer walking
each crutch a memoir
Late bloomer,
Produced an abundance of fruit,
Marinated for centuries,
Tasted exquisite!
By: sabina Nicole
Lazy
Daisy
for Brian Strand's April Footle Contest
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