I would’ve lived on
in a life composed of shades—
Black, white, and million kinds of gray.
Pulsing hearts rarely made sense
when even blood was
the shade of cooled cement.
That’s why you’re a mystery—
Your eyes are vibrant, water dancing
in a grace I cannot name.
They look like celestial crystals—
like if heaven has a shape;
Your hair warm, like autumn
before wind grows chilly.
It reminds me of maple leaves
I inked to seal fall’s harmony;
Your smile stirs—something
in my paralyzed soul.
Like a gentle thunderstorm,
but instead of rain you leave petals.
The camellias caress every
fiber on my skin, the electricity—
Then I knew:
You are color.
You are poetry.
You are the flustered butterfly
whom I felt across the sea.
In early morn, the clouds are light
And breezes dissipate the worries of yesterday
While wispy clouds' dance a fleeting sight
Both camellias and magnolia's limbs sway
Camellias' verdant leaves a sight to see
Against magnolia's beauty pure and white
The two have healing touches in nature's glee
And Larkspurs' colors charm with delight
Magnolia's petals lift in the gentle breeze
Amidst the beauty of nature's grace
A symphony of colors a harmonious tease
In this wondrous heavenly place
Larks sing in the morning light
Where earth and sky meet in unity
Together they dance a wonderous sight
A moment of perfect serenity
At the end of winter's cold
And the beginning of spring
While the Camellias still bloom
Come to me
Let's share some time
Enjoy life together
While the Camellias still bloom
In lovely warmer weather
In the garden where memories
Whisper, a Camellia bud awakens
That tender blossom with velvet petals
Dances with grace and sun embraces
Love, like Camellia's blossoms
Grows slowly, nurtured by moments
Like these fleeting times spent together
But yet love is eternal
As velvety petals unfurl, vibrant
Love's ardor consumes, but is resilient
Winter's winds carry sweet fragrance
And of love's true commitment
In this ever-changing world
Let love find its place
May its gentle whispers and grace
Bear witness to love's evolution __in time
Filled with Jesus-fascination
Pure poinsettia Plantation
Red, pink, white, salmon and yellow
Cover the fields like a rainbow...!
Sweet-peas like little butterflies,
Cute cosmic angels in disguise;
Perform ballet dance in cool breeze,
Make baby Jesus feel at ease...!
Does this blood-red calla lily
Blooming full at weather chilly
Prophesies his tests and passion
Symbols of divine compassion...?
Do these parrot tulip torch-balls
Sing of sanctity of our calls?
Setting our goals toward wholeness,
Journeying with him in closeness...!
These fresh camellias have stories -
Their mysteries and histories;
These as precious gifts they offer
At the foot of their true author...!
Anemones, Amaryllis,
Gardenia and gladiolus,
Each make this season auspicious,
Adores Him who is judicious...!!!
16 November 2022
November or December Quatrain Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
Sublime
Longtime
Showy
Snowy
Beautiful shrub, sublime, longtime blooms
Many colors snowy, showy plumbes
I found a chateau lawn once, teeming with charm
A MAZE it was, growing cluttered yet it had an air
Of much lushness TURNING the space into a hued mantle;
Where PATHS of herbage, bluebells, camellias sashayed
Like a vintage GARDEN set on cobblestone and ivy WALL.
Touches of grass here... firs, and jasmines there bloomed
Like shabby elegance which was never designed--
On the aisle, a SINUOUS bend led me to a wishing well
Creating a playful mood for birdsongs' rhythmic trills,
While dragonflies wheeled in pirouetted flight
That I, LOST in this finery recalled springtime glee
When my cousins' roguish play of hide-and-seek,
Mirrored their frolic, TWISTING reeling among weeds:
O reminisces gushed of colored florets TRAPPED
Within their scratched arms made me dream again,
About a youth's lawn which held me enthralled...
This wondrous PUZZLE of discovery I now keep, on my mind!
````````````````
Maze--19 Word Challenge Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart
6/28/2020
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Azaleas are pink;
Camellias are to
The sun is shining;
Pastures renew
The sun rises;
Day breaks to
Light bleeds to Dark
Dreams do to
Azaleas are dying;
The camellias are wilting
Everything has turned an ungodly hue;
Thoughts mildly askew
As my world turned;
Shades of blue
Rain polka dots
the limestone church
in a spray of champagne
as throngs of ballet slipper camellias
plie like marionettes
with crystal strings
to heavy drops
on an emerald lawn
of rice tosses.
Rows of braided Lavender
sway to Spring's accordion gusts
just as far-off fields of shamrock
jettison rose poppies
into glistening air.
7/18/18
Within the heart of the city there’s a garden full of life
Hidden away but yet in plain sight
Green foliage covered in flowers: pink, white and blue
Camellias and Statice in full bloom.
The people laugh and the birds sing, like an eternal spring
Small green ferns cover the ground
Red Cordyline break through the green karkalla
A sanctuary busting with flora
Purple irises and yellow daffodils cover the endless landscape.
An escape from reality and an escape from life.
Response Poem To Lost Youth
Young yet dead inside
hardened like steel
through fire
no dreamy eyes
love’s first surprise
dead
with camellias on the grave
walk the streets a curse
cursing god
praying to him
from a mouth of hate
believing
as a last straw
connected to the child
before bedtime prayers were
please hide me from
and “him” became damnation.
Hark oh! Stranger halt!
hearken my plea,ere your surmised decree
thy callous hand,cease them
afore thee naive,asunder me from mine roots
I, fledgling bud,still to bloom and ripe
to blossom and feed the wind,my luscious incense
soon to allure the sweet birds,bees,flies
and proud primrose,buttercup,camellias, daffodils
shall envy my blossomed beauty
nay! do not sever me from my source
the one thee avow thine love, if gift me to her
I be a day's charm,an hour's essence
she'll keep me hidden in pages so white
forget so long, to show any light
and i'll wither and wither and die
hear me!your lover long not for my crimson veil
still to my roots,present me alive to her
she'll nuture me,so shall I always bloom
the wind rustling my emerald leaves,
shall whisper your voice
the thorns, my sword ,shall protect her from vice
my essence, fragrance her life
and touch,my tender touch will remind her
of your eternal love!
Azalea blooms show their pink blaze
Begonias in beds amaze
Cornflowers grow in blue delight
Daffodil debuts still thrill our sight
Eastern Redbud, a bright pink splash
Forsythia gold hides winter's ash
Gardenia, soft with creamy hues
Hyacinth paints with varied blues
Irises rise in purple duds
Jasmine vines show pastel buds
Kafir Lilies, a border bloom
Lilacs share their sweet perfume
Magnolias are pink or white
Neillia clusters in rose delight
Orchids grow with pale soft hues
Pansies, purple with darkest blues
Quince's blossoms of pink delight
Red Chokeberry blooms in rose or white
Snowdrops dangle small white gems
Tea Tree Camellias sleep on stems
Ursinia shows a fiery glow
Viburnum's spread creates a show
Wax Flowers paint a pastel scene
Xylobium...an Orchid dream
Yellow Anemones' full beds bring
Zinnias add their splash to Spring
The Scents I Send to You In Heaven
fireplace smoke rising
morning coffee brewing
old men's cherried pipes
and trees
Do you miss the scents of earth?
fresh-cut grass after rain?
salty ocean breezes? pink camellias?
or my skin?
Published Dual Coast
The camellias.
Catch the witch on the pole:
A spring was here.
Sweep the road.
The exhibitionist
will put up a show.
Monsoon tours
the landscape amidst blows
from the rooftops.
Satish Verma
A Lady Unknown
I have a photo of my grandmother, she looks so
young and beautiful, her hair glossy, but there
is a paleness about her and a sadness in her eyes,
It is a death has sought her out cast a net of illness
around her, ready to haul its catch and devour her.
I know little about her, where she came from, was
she an angel that found its way to my grandfather´s
heart, one who became human out of love but knew
she could not stay? When I look in the mirror and ask,”
Have I got your eyes? She looks back at me in grief.
I say I know who you are, the lost, daughter of Manus
the one he expelled because he found kindness in
your heart? Her eyes, deep as mystery lakes in May,
look at me in silence, but I do see a flicker of an ironic
smile… or was she the lady of the camellias?
I see tears swell in her eyes, depression grips me
as heart ache of love betrayed, shall I ever know
who she was… this woman who bore five children
and died at 27. It can't be so there must be more,
not only this bleak silence of the untold.
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