Short Hothouse Poems

hothouse hell
blazing
sun

warmth
soothing
aching joints



a Charlieku for contest sponsored by Charles Messina

penned 19/09/2018...

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tropical raindrops in the open orchid
labial portals
loosely folded
a rouged acceptance

a decorative wheelbarrow
as green as wet moss
tilts to see

small pungent gardens
listen
to their hothouse fevers...

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Carnivorous blooms
hothouse fed,
thick tonged in lolling herds.

Feeding time is all day.
The flies are introduced
in humming shifts.

By evening 
the electric buzz is dimmed,
the curvaceous florals ingest;
sticky throats absorb.

One dilatory black fly
drones on alone.

Meaty flowers listen -

wait....

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Hothouse atmosphere like a harem,
but this is not his only kind.
"Still Life with Vegetables"
causes my nod as well
of a nice canvas
with old pitcher
in picture
and the 
fruit.


---------------------------------------

11/23/2015

Contest - Favorite Painter

Sponsor - Nayda Ivette Negron

1st place win...

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I fell off my stool
And laid in the floor
Your hand reaching down
Embracing so gentle
Turning my frown.
To fire from kindle.

The lilies you gave 
I saved in a vase
From the hothouse in town
I clutched them dearly
Matching my gown
Now I see more clearly.

Your carriage arrived
How timely you are
Glowing cheeks and smile
Arms reach out for mine
I didn't have to wait awhile
When showing up to dine....

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Women Who Walk Like Men

They seem to be everywhere now,
women who walk like men.
With hair cropped in a paint brush, 
bullets for eyes and knives for noses,
they walk long halls, hips so still
they can have no pelvis.
Then one day you meet one
and become her friend.
A week later you still wonder:
Are all the women who walk like men
wildflowers, really,
locked in a hothouse, craving the sun?


Donal Mahoney...

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Remembering the Hothouse
          for our daughters

Wind skids on curves of trees,
immured in ice, seeds sleep.
Inside, I shiver.
Then, from bean fields of the mind,
coiling on propping studs of flesh
ascends the blossoming hope;
and I know that pregnant Sal,
smoothed with cocoa cream
sails snoring into birth.
Her waters warm, protect, and part:
the cargo singing in her crib
melts the chill
when wind skins bark and bones
and every other year
the chorus grows....

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