marigold residing next to red brick
with her relatives making garden thick
pungent fragrance only marigolds make
they look fantastic on a wedding cake
The rising sun cheers all to start the day with liveliness.
Carrots and pumpkins feed all to feel the day with abundant energy.
Marigolds in the vase welcome all to face the day with passion and assertiveness.
Butterflies in the garden wish all to make their day dynamic and exuberant.
Traffic cones on the road alert all to deal with the day with security and sensuality.
Marigolds bloom for you,
Morning light breaking through,
Memories old, yet true,
Marking paths we've once crossed,
Majesty never lost,
Mirrors of love’s soft glow,
Mellowing hearts, we grow.
Time here is measured
by the lint-clogged resurrections
of air-conditioners.
All of us have had to learn
to shout past our souls.
Dulled minds are churned awake.
Fractured nights slumber on
beneath the rocky rumble
of nearby ice-machines.
The ‘Marigold’
is unmarried, divorced and abandoned,
but for those still not seeking lonely
there are midnight do-overs.
Behind the days horizon
a desert sky still thirsts
in the mouths of discarded shoes.
Firey sunsets melt
a stale residue of bedside booze.
The Marigold is mad, it was built that way,
its identical rows of doors
are designed to be portals
to yet more distant parking lots.
We internees prefer our rooms
to be dead to the daylight,
though every night
they will always revert
to storage units
for long imagined - much better times.
Merrily, I sway in the sunlight.
Multi-layered corolla full bright
Mostly found in yellow, red, and creamy white
Musky and pungent aroma, though slight
Makes mosquitoes run away in fright.
Men have no menace from their itchy bite.
Mount on a hollow stem, which has low height.
My presence brings festive mood and delight.
My looks make your garden a beautiful site.
My name ends in gold; it’s my sole right.
PLACE: 3rd
I am a dainty, colorful marigold.
Or at least that's the story I'm told.
I was born in a big, green, and grassy yard.
Growing up was awfully hard.
But now, my fiery orange petals are out,
And I can wave them all about.
I love to soak up that bright, yellow sun.
And being kissed by a delicate, winged butterfly is fun!
Sharing my food is a nice gesture of me.
My favorite companion is the buzzing bee.
I hope I live a long, healthy, and happy life,
With some children and a beautiful wife.
A
Rose
Tears the
Earth open
And grows peach petals,
Resembling a sunrise shining
On indigo canvas, penetrating the sombre
Sky with downy rays of marigold to brush away nocturnal inky reveries,
Enticing the world to open its eyes and inhale the moment, beckoning bright hues to imbue the cosmos with crystalline vibrancy.
Such wonder in fields of marigold
Flaxen dame beauteous to behold
Gently partake of nectar flutterby
Upon fairwinds on balmy sigh
Midas must’ve tarried near
To tint floral atmosphere
Supple petals utmost grand
Abundant allure, blessed land
Meadows sway to natures refrain
Lush tis emerald terrain
Sodden by summer storm
Refreshed tis bonnie form
Serene waters running like bridges
Faultless shoreline on the edges
Decent horizon meeting the ridges
Echoes through the mountain ranges
Tender air gently blowing
Like a chaste stream of elixir flowing
Fine evergreen freely growing
Like a matchless charm glowing
From the concrete plains of the west
To the rugged hills of the east
I was but a dreamer looking for heart of gold
On the vast fields of marigold
On the vast fields of marigold
There I was looking for the heart of gold
While sowing the seeds of wisdom
For those who treasure freedom
And far along where poor souls dwell
I got my taste of heaven and hell
A fine young maiden casted the spell
That made me ring my bell
On the vast fields of marigold
I came looking for a hand to hold
It does not matter if the trunk is old
For as long as the heart is gold
In memory of living in a place called "mine of gold"
I
power supply fails
bright moon: substitute
square cloud-houses smile light
II
african winter
less sun - enough for some:
marigold, geranium exult
LITTLE CHILD read the dictionary:
a poem about all things!
Strains of marigold those
shadows of dancing old!
Ashes to ash all-in-all
a mental addiction
burning wells of poetry
all souls a poem
Cut yourself with A's
and create imaginary gardens
with real toads
real change -- the only poem
And Life is brazenly amazing
leaving no time for thought.
is what i heard.
:: 12.28.2021 ::
Spring morning, so still.
Alone, on a marigold hill.
Sudden storm, God's will.
5/3/2021
~2~
When I was twelve my mother gave me a packet of marigold seeds and asked me to plant them in the ground around the west corner of the house, where the sun shone the brightest in the afternoons. I had to prepare the earth first, which she showed me how to do. It was fun, playing in the dirt. It made me feel happy. I was instructed to water the seeds, which I did. Several weeks later tiny bright green slips of stems began to sprout, as if by magic. In a few more weeks there were tiny buds. When the flowers finally opened, I was giddy. It seems like they opened up on the same day.
beautiful fragrance
pretty ruffled edges rolled
marigold magic
She was a gunslinger from way back.
She kept this under her hat.
A secret from everyone except the women she avenged.
They called her Marigold, because of her flowers.
When women who had been wronged learned of other women wronged,
They came to her in the middle of the night.
She was unknown as a gunslinger in this backwater town.
They thought of her only as preacher’s wife.
Preacher was always gone, preaching at a hanging or a revival.
The women came and told her what had happened.
After she verified it, she brought out her guns. Problem solved.
The tulips and the marigolds were in a gun battle today.
Queen of Tulips was mad for her latest slave Charlie had run away.
She started the battle with hatchets, battle axes, and hammers too.
Queen of Marigolds ended it with assault rifles, painted periwinkle blue.
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