we watch red petals on a couch fall
pistils are blood cells raw opened
falling on white linen watching
grey from wear and tears
our bangles shatter shy shiver
eating opened figs red
S
LICED
knifed you one loaf for eight
near and far you are my star
crazed or tranquil polishing brass
oceans with oil spills rush ship hull
fish dying as gills ooze dna flying
king then peasant or poet, know it !
weaving words regret and regress
how you escape depths, mate of slate
where Persephone eats ocean peaches
the fish are tuna, mackerel and yellowtail
sailors break their bread on rope deck
I watch enthralled from hoping shore
shore and red petals merge with urge
blood cells bright as fire roaring
slaves washing linen at river snoring
tears from stratus clouds dropping bangles
figs fat, ready for pudding angles
we will slice it with your sailor’s knife
g o
BB
LE
IT
UP __________
In the shadow of your red lips, angels revile your smile,
A definition of love, where instincts meet in style.
The egg, rolling in infinity, cries in pure moments,
Overturned clouds, round tombs, in my mind's playful torments.
The budding shoots eagerly drink destiny through flowers,
Whose matured pistils erupt in the dawn of dreams' showers.
Your love, without perfumed words that die,
Of my cult, crooked crosses for atheists, a backdrop to defy.
In the astral shadow of the New Earth, the world's wind spins,
Abject stars swarm toward the Universe's hive, where it all begins.
Eternal rotation, in reverse, summer igniting the air,
Imponderability sparking a call in a frail alphabet's lair.
A firm point, a unique end, the start of a calendar's grace,
My transparent eyelid, a humble leaf, the first and last place,
Torn away with modesty, when your pity weeps true beauty,
Dusting cheeks with my virgin loves, singing your story as duty.
Stamens and pistils
delicately poised
Shamans and pistols
making too much noise
Soft buzz preferred,
a silencer’s desired
Pollinator’s sense
the triggers just fired
Nectar brings balance
agape open wide
Willing the seeker
to do laps inside
Comes with a snag
also stitch in the side
Fulcrum of a rose
the thorn realised
My soul’s not a flower
just gives and takes
Wants what it craves
accepts all, even fakes
Opens too early,
closes far too late
Can’t tell if I’m full,
yet knows when I’m sate
Possesses a thorn,
and stabs by design
Fulcrum of my soul’s
human not divine
Protects at all costs
only thing that’s mine
Not pain or loss,
just my life to define
A FLOWER THAT BLOOMS
God sees your life as a flower
That sprouts, grows, blooms, wilts, withers, and dies in one Day.
And it is not so much the way the Lord sees how you were Rooted to the world
But,
How you attempted to bloom toward the sky.
Whether your stem was broken too soon by an icy storm, Wilted too early by a harsh sun
Or
Grew to be a beautiful flower with bright petals
Because each flower was born in different times, weather, and Seasons
And We
Are the product of our days
But each flower is still a flower With stamens and pistils
Trying to survive And
Love Together
Whether born in a cold canyon, a beautiful garden, sprouting from Concrete, or a lovely meadow
Standing alone or with many
As long as your stem stands tall and your petals Reach toward the Lord
You will always be the flower that blooms
My love like steel and silk
cuts through you
splutters your blood
watermelon juice down a throat
Wipes it with yellow silken ribbon
for you to suck afresh
that you may find your
Godly seed within
My love like dragonflies and bees
silently landing on stamen or pistils
alchemising nectar into patterned
dust upon transparent wings
Earth rewards my love with morning glory
steel severs sunflower stems
silkworms crawl into a wet rose centre
pollen stolen in sparkling dew
My steely silken love refreshed
from your flowered stickiness
"Immaculate"
I’d like to write something
beautiful for once,
divinely dripping with honey
and milk that washes white
like stamen juice over the uncut,
the bees all come to drink
the heady dew,
stroking their black down
over dusky aubergine-eyed
blue forget-me-knots,
the nots touched by thorns
those slippery rosary beads
coddled warm between the hidden
breasts of petulant nuns
bending in their black habits
unfettered roses
pistils sticky with stigma
covertly kneeling before their
uncovered dreams
of nakedness blanketed
in the sun's light
warm and flaming
as a forbidden kiss
plucked passionately
immaculate
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
pistil.
stigma.
Showered in tear drops
Their pink leggy drenched pistils
Flirt from lilac skirts
Chalice of Darkness
Buried deep inside the blinded eye of midnight
My fugitive heart,
Homeless in winter’s frozen wrath,
Seeks an abyss with rotund borders –
A rounded vault of endorphic sacredness
Overflowing with elixirs of metamorphosis
Born from dark dry crystals of crisis –
Angles of anxiety –
Dark womb no sepulcher for magic of wonder.
Rotunda made with sacred walls of purple heart
Where stamens and pistils entwine,
Ferment to maturity in a lightless vessel,
To press against the wholeness of their birthing cup
In a goblet of a chrysalis catacomb
Ecstasy bidding my weeds of mourning
Flame within the grail of martyrs
To pollinate, despite shades of gloom,
Blooms rising above this cupola of blessings.
1-24-21
Contest: Chalice of Darkness
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Purple heart is a hardwood that when cut reveals a nature purple color.
A chalice is a cup. It is also the interior shape of a flower.
The moon is a yellow-green tonight like the pistils of a daisy.
I have no interest in sleep.
The wine is gentle on my nerves.
I think about her discreetly.
I imagine her on a couch in pajamas reading a thick novel.
It is wrong of me to think of her without her consent.
I hear the deer down below rustling the leaves.
They have gathered around to listen to John Coltrane.
She has that way about her that makes you want to think about her.
And the silky darkness makes it easy.
More poppies grow along the asphalt road
Where mankind once came then went away
Flowers don’t remember men because
Orange colored petals form like cups of tea
Primal stems built thick to hold the system up
Containing powdery pistils erect in solid black
Anther/filament merge to form perfection
Soft to the touch dressed up in wonder
Standing tall to nourish bees with nectar
So there are no thoughts worth thinking of again
Winds come gentle to make beauty genuflect
Thick and flexible they bend the knee today
Sunny days know no boundaries to life’s effect
To the sometimes comings and goings to death
But poppies forget everything once again
When they fall into a bed of roses fast asleep
The sun goes down, forgets to turn off the lights
Nature is not perfect but well worth the time it spent
With poppies when you come to think of it
Spray your love in the masochistic mist,
shapely satisfying the illicit itch...
With handcuffs upon the wicked wrist,
narcotic nectars that will bewitch…
Salacious secretions that must assist,
appeasing appetites that shall enrich...
Salivating on parts hardly ever kissed,
exploring erotica within its niche…
Licentious desires amidst negligent night,
engulfing erections are craving...
Passionate pistils partake in their plight,
tender thoughts are misbehaving…
Bodies in motion divulge in delight,
as animalistic aphrodisiacs are raving...
Concupiscence convulsions do bite;
willing wanton wizards are waving…
Hold me tight as we twist and twitch,
upon luscious landscapes yearning...
Libidinousness lactations in their stitch,
beauteous breasts are burning…
Carnal covetousness stings their pitch,
for evocative emulations returning...
Leaving humble humanity in the ditch,
lacrimal lewdness upon learning.
Oct.15.2019
Itch, witch, glitch or twitch
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
Background Music...Sade
"No Ordinary Love"
With Female Virtual Voice
N/A for contest
vrrroom buzzzzzzzz vrrroom
cars in a circle
touch each other crash
bungled-stuttering engines like
frustrated flying insect?
bungle-stuttering
hits and misses faulty transmissions
Petals and sepals touching
Stramens and Pistils
developer seeds and fruit blossoms
O' hymenopterous succulent
chewing mouth parts
Petals and sepals touching
stamens and pistils
developed seeds and fruit blossoms
Encountering chance obstacle hindrance
In mid-flight voicing working flights
Suckculants flights buzzing
Stigma touches tongue of feathered vertebrate
Buzz-Buzz! Sucks-sucks suckculants
9/12/19
Where Bumbles Bounce Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: craig cornish
Morning Glories dance with ease
trumpet flowers among weeds
twirling petals pirouette
with a dainty, shy coquette.
Swirling purples blend to white
pistils are a bee’s delight
glory visions, how they rise
from low canyons to grand skies.
Flowers dance to nature’s tune
crickets chirp and songbirds croon
lively leaves rustle, they are fans
critters spy the scene at hand.
Morning Glories dance with ease
trumpet flowers among weeds.
6/26/2019
Hungary 1956
The innocent flowers peered gingerly
Through the stench in the iron pavement
Hesitating, then stretching the petals greedily
To drink of the sunlight of Possibility...
Czechoslovakia 1968
Beaming, grinning, grown men giddy with laughter
Liberty unleashed! Gone Repression's manacles
Now marching, shouting, swelling to a gale force
Unstoppable, sweeping aside all resistance in her path...
Happy Endings
...When, bludgeoned by cement-faced tanks
Petals ducking inward, collapsing
Pistils and stamens suffocating
Vanished smiles annihilated
Choked on oxygen-depleted
Placards of Freedom unbetrothed...
...All the flowers died...
...All the people withered...
...Crushed -- oh-so --Happily --ever --after
She’s not for burning
Remnant of dried out pistils
If burnt
May fill nooks and corners
With their inimitable fragrance
But that doesn’t look aesthetic
Rather disparaging towards
Fascinating gift of nature;
History witnessed
Whether for genuine demand or
Otherwise fake societal dignity
Whatever businesses under the sun
We put our woman To
Like mad blacksmith
We blew the furnace
Until stars fly upward
Every time we found her glow
But for dowry
Where ignominy to her
Parental family by in-laws
She owned and preferred
To be burnt to ashes
Alive without any essence
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