~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
dry ink on yellowed
license—November nineteenth~
their pressed gardenia
still perfumes the cedar box
where Mother enfolded time.
eighty-one springs fade:
the cake, the vows, their laughter—
dust motes tremble
as my thumb traces father’s
smile bleeding through the license.
no ghosts haunt these walls,
only the scent of camphor
and one stubborn thread~
Mother’s lace unraveling
from the hem of forever.
delicate as a whisper in the night
AP: 1st place 2025
Gardenia cottage is unseen by most
Built by a mushroom finger hut ghost
Deep in the blue forest, only seen by a few
She only shows herself when she thinks you are true
In your garden, I am gardenia,
My petals pure, a fragrant white,
Bloom, forever bright,
A symphony of scents it exudes.
Petals soft as whispers in the breeze, Amidst the birds, bees, butterflies, and chipmunks.
Gardenia stands with grace, A vision of loveliness, a pure delight.
sweet fragrant zephyr
gracious gardenia gift ~
blissful eyelids close
Just One Haiku - Sponsor Sara Kendrick #2
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
jungle gardenia
jungle zephyrs rest
on drowsy gardenia eyelids ~
lush pearls of perfume
fresh on her eyelids
a zephry wind softly stirs
gardenia lemmings
2) zephry eyelids gardenia
floral scent divine
gardenia permeates air
groom's boutonnière
Cape Jasmine
One last white blossom
Memories
Of our youth
You brought three green stems with buds
Fragrance filled the room
Long ago
When you desired love
Memories
Flood my mind
Now you bring me muscadines
From your garden, love
I swim slowly, almost languidly,
But alert, careful not to let my hands
Break the surface, make the faintest sound.
Oppressive stillness into which a tropical bird
Cries with an old man's voice.
Only my eyes and nose above
The smooth warm liquid.
My long black hair rising and falling across
The small eddies of my movement.
A white gardenia behind one ear.
Darn! I can never remember which ear!
The Japanese are everywhere!
A sweet young lassie from Estonia
Was besought by a boy from Bologna
Taking her to a dance,
He wore his best pants
And gave her a corsage of begonia.
written September 1, 2021
Your house is simple to reach Marina,
you must not handle me the direction,
quite elementary is stablish connection
just close to it detect a smell of gardenia
My hat has a gardenia that refuses to behave.
She throws a fit that would make a Neanderthal cave.
I asked what she needed, what helps, what does she crave?
She said she always wanted a close straight razor shave.
But wouldn’t that hurt you as you are made of straw?
She gave me a look that made my heart blanch and turn raw.
A gardenia and yet, she is as abusive as a rabid jackdaw.
I wish my hat had instead a dead rooster’s lifeless claw.
Her shimmering lavender gown of satin and lace
Made her look like a fairy princess dressed for the dance.
The lad held a delicate, creamy-white gardenia
On her shoulder next to her radiant, beaming face.
She had requested an orchid; she thought it so chic,
The sweet fragrance of the gardenia altered her choice
She admired herself in the grand vestibule mirror,
And gave her timid boyfriend a sweet peck on the cheek.
When the evening ended, she carefully put the bloom
Pressing between pages of her senior annual,
A reminder of that night for the rest of her life
She gave it a special place on a shelf in her room.
As the years crept slowly by, and events shaped her life
Like the pressed gardenia she had carefully hidden,
Her memory of the lad from long ago faded
She mothered her seven children, another man's wife.
One day her husband given a promotion senior,
Came home early to take his good wife out to dinner
She descended their staircase dressed in satin and lace
He pinned a sweet-smelling gardenia next to her face.
intoxicating
velvet petals, gleaming leaves
lifescape's artistry.
September 18, 2020
3pm PST
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