A flower-child appeared
a poppy on her dress
Personifying naivete
her tangled locks a mess
‘Round mid-Manhattan traffic
she spun and twirled her way
Barefoot joy and ecstasy
bravely on display
One of NYC’s finest
approached her cautiously
Lucky for her, he did not see
her feet weren’t all that were bare
And anyway, which city ordinance covers
red-white-and-blue-painted pubic hair
It sure was fun to write these
Each and every day
Nine hundred posts here not for you
That's quite a few I'd say
"Then who", you'd ask, "was meant to be
The subject of all these?
Andres, were they really for
Some lady overseas?"
And I would say to you, "My dear,
For her they were indeed!
Now tell me, do you like it living
There on Lake Annecy?"
As long as ink is in my pen
I'll write bouquets galore
And post them for you while you sleep
"Bonjour, mon amour"
A raven-haired girl whose name was Tilly
had friends who thought she was much too silly.
But she didn't care what anyone said.
She tended her garden... each flower bed.
Her buddings blossomed as if they were wild.
Tilly became known as 'the Flower Child."
Daisies, zinnia, and pink peony.
Did she have a green thumb? Definitely!!
She cut and bundled them with great care.
Their stems were often longer than her hair.
Tilly shared their beauty with her neighbors.
Kind folks who thanked Tilly for her labors.
Barefoot Tilly walked; her arms filled with blooms.
Fragrant flora with sweet scent of perfumes.
Spring is always her favorite season,
The time of year flowers bloom ~ that's her reason
One day, a little girl moved in next door.
She thought, "What a beautiful dress she wore!"
Covered in flowers, but not too frilly.
She smiled and said, "Hi. My name is Lilly."
May the child of the woman whom is named yellow flower
Always brighten your life when you are in your darkest hour,
As well as shine like a rainbow after every rainy shower.
Flower Child
fields of hemp flowers
smokey green horizon clouds~
luscious femme fatale
Like a sunflower reaches for the sun
I reach for the light of a full moon
When no one watered me
I planted my feet in the grass
and prayed for rain
t’s a little too late with too much hate,
In this world we’re living.
People don’t take the time to hear freedom bells chime,
It’s all taking and no giving.
Now we need a flower child to make it a little better.
Say you’ve paid your dues gonna sing the blues,
That’s what it’s all about.
You say a prayer tonight hoping you’ll see the light,
Then you just scream and shout.
If you know a flower child would you go and get her?
Through thousands of years and millions of tears,
Human respect is stalling.
Because you want you way,got to have it every day,
That is why mankind is falling.
Find us a flower child and send her a letter.
We need to be kind I know the people won’t mind,
They say pray without cease.
So don’t forget the past cause the future won’t last,
All we need is love and peace.
When we find a flower child we can work it out together!
MARTY L WEST
She's a free spirit
Frangipani in her hair
Headed to Woodstock
Date written and posted: 01/19/2019
Peace
Hippy
Bell bottoms
And hip huggers
Platform shoes and belts
The late 60’s
And 70’s
Flower
Child
Dreams come quiet
Through the open window
Tell you softly, it'll be alright
Your tears leak promise, though
The pale moonlight
Holds the promise of fire
And passion beneath the stars
Your headlights sway
With your head in the clouds
The road is long
But your heart is found
Dawn is coming, open your eyes
The flowers sway
In the radiant sunlight
A picture-perfect melody
Of a songbird in hand
As you and the grass
And the trees and the sand
Come together today
To dance with the wind
I was so happy
A free spirit
A flower child.
Then, you took me captive
Called me as your own
And forced me to drink from the well of your people.
You shoved the seeds down my throat
And I had no choice but to swallow.
I got addicted
To this lonely place
And now, can never return.
I miss my family.
My friends.
My old life.
But I cannot leave this place
For I am bound by the bond
That I did not agree to.
You never want them to know
The hunger of Persephone
And how I starve for something
Other than pomegranates
sixty-three hippie
guard supervise prisoners
daisies woven crown
© By: Eve Roper
3/1 6/2015
This is in honor of my sister in-law, she use to be a flower child when she was in her teens. She has been a prison guard for almost 16 years and she has never grown out of the era of dress..... ?????
psychedelic drugs
population explosion
making love, not war
There is too much hate in the world. Leave it out of the Soup. Here is my flower child
scoop: “Make love not war.”
Eileen Manassian
I'm NOT a flower child, but this quotation from that era is pertinent today. Innuendos
and sarcasm, implications hoping for inferences have no place here. We all need to
heed this advice from Paul.
New International Version (Romans 13:8)
Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another.
Covered in gardenia's lace,
a smoky smile upon her face,
she inhaled deeply of each bloom
delighting in the sweet perfume.
In warmly flowered fields she danced
and with each tulip was entranced.
On the wind the petals drifted;
through the breeze the fragrance shifted.
Pansies, lilacs tinged in blue;
roses and lillies thrill her too.
As afternoon fades into night
her arms have gathered pure delight.
Tomorrow morn again she'll dance
while blossoms let her dream romance.
She'll happily while away her day
and watch the sun come out to play.
written April 6th,2012
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