Short Budded Poems

blushing budded trees
knit their lacy canopy
clothing naked limbs...

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the seiryu's laced leaves,
breaching their budded cocoon's,
flutter in the breeze...

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cold’s fire rages
against dawn’s smoldering clouds
calliope colors sing
a treetop chorus
sad songs of jubilation
fulfilling soft budded dreams...

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a sea of luscious buds -
pink promises
ready to burst into bloom.

That night,
the freeze came,
withered the petals
to shriveled brown remains

But is this sadder
than never to have budded
at all?

April 12, 2018...

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I hear serenading songs of summer swallows
and ruffling feathers of roosting starlings.
I catch the sweet scent of heirloom roses 
that have not yet budded upon the bush.
All these things I know have been given to me
as surely as I see you standing before my eyes....

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A healed heart, with it’s tender petals,
	Budded tight to protect itself,
Hesitantly opens one petal at a time,
	Warmed by the rays of hope,
Cultivated and caressed by the gentle,
	Kind hands of affection,
Longs for the warmth of tender love
	And companionship,
So courageously opens,
	One petal at a time,
To the possibilities of a dream come to life....

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Crimson was the blush, coloring my heated cheeks
when tempted by the suggestive words he speaks

A crimson bouquet of budded roses I carried
on the day we said our vows; the day we married.

In a pool of crimson blood I awaited my death,
calling his name until I gasped for my last breath.



7/25/2016
Crimson Contest-Royal Ninja...

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She’s unable to move, 
Bound to the gate, 
She’s unable to fall, 
Will never escape,

Shackled naked and tied, 
Like a musical tune,
Showing her love, 
With her blue budded bloom,

Still, she tries to climb up, 
Tries to break out,
Tries to break free, 
With a muted soft shout,

But, forever she’s chained, 
The youngest red wine,
My beautifully naked, 
Luscious grape vine....

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He came to save.
But the cross was the crux
Of the Father's dire demand.
So he went.

He came to give life,
But was lifted, left on a tree,
Hanging in the singeing sun.
So he died.

He came to reap,
But the fruit must first die,
Buried in the belly of the earth.
So he budded..

He sprouted the third day,
Fruited—a hundredfold, and more.
Still fruiting because
He came to save....

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In a barren wasteland I stand;
Amid sticks and bones that once 
Haunted my soul.
Memories gone of not so long ago.
Dandelions once played in a lush of green;
A bear came calling after me.
Visionary of epic said I would be free.
Its eye in death has not yet closed.
David and I with a sling
Thrown at the Mark
Only his was stone
Overlay this bear with death and look beyond at the budded tree.

April 8 2016...

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Summer morning sunrise
Dawn paints with pastel hues
Day breaks before my eyes

Pastel hues gently brushed
by angels in the sky
when all the world is hushed

The sky has golden threads
stitching closed nimbus clouds
with rain nature imbeds

Nimbus clouds of dark grays
Soon earth's thirst will be quenched
Then light from gold sun rays

Quenched, budded flowers bloom
on honeysuckle vines
softly scented perfume

Vines climb the garden wall
after a summer squall...

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