I watch my verdant eyes envious as the botanicals blossom in a sandstone sunrise glow,
I am a forlorn figure wandering in my fog of fears,
I cannot omit my icy turbulent tears,
Our short saga of passion much like the snow keeps me on the slippery slopes of sorrow,
Unlike the spring my heart is wary of healing,
I have tried to evolve like my kin as their colours modify with the sky,
But my reckless resilience sits saturated in puddles of pity,
I am perpetually a grey shadow lost in winter's chill,
I sometimes ask the cotton candy clouds to glimmer their cedar joy upon my perils,
Their intellectual gapes tell me I must find my internal self-love to glide with other stems again,
I know you're the perilous storm I sowed, but I desire to leave behind our wilting tale.
I wish to burn these bitter beads of pain, yet like the summer rain, I’m struggling to allow a fluorescent rainbow to shine its rays of hope.
Instead, I wallow in the equinox between light and dark,
I fill my petals with pesticides because they resemble you, I wait patiently for this period of despair to depart, as no emotion can linger eternally.
Categories:
botanicals, anger, anxiety, emotions, love,
Form: Free verse
The terrace offers a point. From this point
a view. It's only a stopoff; it assumes
the motion requisite for temporary
stays will continue. The speculative
friction required to stop those passing
through would require planned extinction;
would require war against generations
of persistence across biome, suffering &
misery magnified it remains threatened
always. Building requires digging.
Digging creates hollows to be filled.
A move past botanicals—it doesn’t exist.
A pulse in the web. Walk toward beyond
the view: journey’s luck to close in on
production. Pace picks up, dusk’s dis-
appearing light invites one in: welcome.
Categories:
botanicals, culture,
Form: Free verse
'Midst towering fells and tumbling streams
A building stands, not all it seems.
The River Derwent passes near –
So bright and bubbling, cool and clear.
In Sprinkling Tarn it has its birth
Then frolics down for all its worth.
So come with me to Bassenthwaite
To model farm, through wrought iron gate.
Victorian buildings, built to last,
Now house a process from the past.
They're making gin (and vodka, too) –
Let's go inside and see them brew.
Prepared from three ingredients,
A gin of striking elegance
Is manufactured here by Cumbri
With purest water, yeast and barley.
Distilled two times in copper still,
Handmade by craftsman with good will.
And flavoured with botanicals,
Hand-gathered from the vales and hills –
Juniper, heather, bilberry
Brought home to the distillery.
So let your taste-buds have a thrill
And take a bottle to the till !
Categories:
botanicals, drink, nature,
Form: Couplet