Short Pruned Poems

pruned and trimmed
blooming flowers
butterflies...

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red roses in bloom
beneath my lover's window
pruned to perfection

Cynthia...

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red roses in bloom
beneath my lover's window
pruned to perfection


Cynthia...

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Volcanic clay soil 
Interwoven roots through rocks;
Pruned limbs reach for sun....

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I have already borne many fruits in my life
 pruned, today I don't even have leaves...

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Stems so strictly pruned,
white rosebush gives rich results-
Profuse springtime blooms....

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Your rosebush teamed with blossoms
I pruned your entreating limbs
Your fragrance drew me closer
To the prickly thorns...

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Love
is true
when it's there
to seek the good
just for the one loved
and can be pruned
where needed
to bear
truth.


All rights reserved ~~~Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~02.06.14...

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A foot-long-strand-of-hair is one of my fears
So I sharpen and oil up my trimming shears
Ev'ry organ that senses
Gets pruned to the fences
Ain't no bird gonna' nest in THIS old man's ears.......

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A simpleton mewls.
Streams of martyrdom
sate white porcelain.
Sins and suffering
hover like pumice.

Pruned fingertips
scratch metallic
drain passages
seeking escape.

Dread subsides
as bubbles
vanish and

whimpers
simply

laugh....

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Vigorous, plentiful
vines, diligently pruned
venture trained upon wire,
vast leaves cropped for dolmas.
Valued for complex taste,
vermillion morsels make
vintage wine with patience.

5-4-2021
Pleiades V Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kim Merryman...

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PARIS

We adore her splendours;
But Paris displays these
Long aloof avenues, and arbours
Of precisely pruned trees;
Turns a disdainful look
At our presence,
Gives a Gallic shrug
At our absence:
See Paris and die -
Paris will not even sigh....

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the harvest plentiful                                                                                             
nigh the first fruits of SUMMER...                                                                                
purged  pruned  bough...

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I HAVE BEEN ASLEEP
FOR A THOUSAND YEARS
GENTLY AWAKENED
BY THE SOUND
OF YOUR VOICE
YOU FOUND ME
IN MY CONCRETE CAGE
AND PULLED ME UP
ABOVE THE HAZE
YOU PRUNED ME
LIKE A TREE
SHOOK OFF 
THE DEAD LEAVES
YOU POLISHED ME
AND MADE ME
BRAND NEW....

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There is not long before the severing of all.
Sheared off in bloom the rose will fall,
Crushed underfoot, on life’s stone walk.

The moments left to bloom are prized ones still,
Split-second, flowering!—until
Black snipping scissors clip life’s stalk....

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I can feel spring is in the air today.
I hear my garden remonstrating me.
Please come out here and clear these leaves away.
Bulbs are beginning to bud, come and see. 
Rose bushes need pruned, the trestle is falling.
"Wake up! Get moving!" the garden's calling....

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Moving silently without direction
Like an old Saint 
Quick yet perturbed
Mimicking a malnourished child 

A silhouetted figure in the dark
Slithers across the curve of the Earth 
While the dewdrops gather at their pruned toes
Just to find 
You.

~Whoever...

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Hydrangea’s lay pruned 
Nude branches reach longingly 
Squirrels scrambling one last time 

North winds have spoken 
Secrets nature understands
Her warm quilt is on the way

SEDOKA
10.06.2014
For Andrea Dietrich’s Contest 
October Bliss or November Dreams 
5th...

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          A friend is a flower
      that needs to be cared for,
          an enemy is a thorn
      that needs to be pruned,
      a friend is a plant   
  that needs to be cultivated,
          an enemy is a weed,
     that needs to be pulled out......

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there's not a flower
can't grow wild
thrive neglected and ignored
but how much better
some can do when caged
tied to stakes
and pruned
their buds collected
to encourage growth
the sun, the rain, the earth
and care and harvesting
no less important
to renew the bloom....

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Because love does not adapt itself
to your needs
And needs grow too fast
like weeds
Needful love has to be pruned
and forced to draw back
So freeze your heart
and let them upon examining
find your heart cold and unfeeling
And never let anyone's kisses 
dampen the spark in your soul...

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Midnight in the garden. 
Spring thrills of trial, 
error and discovery 
pruned, watered, and fed. 
Familiar now 
fruits ripening 
promising bounty 
for autumn harvest 
and late winter sowing.

We sway 
embraced 
by the still warm breeze 
gently rustling the leaves 
and our souls 

satisfied....

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Earth's trees are pruned; men came and left
upon their branches burning scars;
now their arms are piteous stubs
no longer reaching for the stars.
My heart is wounded watching them,
so public is their grief and loss,
their shame exposed, yet mute they stand:
I think of Jesus on the cross.

© 1987, Faye Lanham Gibson...

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The bonsai mirrors your grace
a miniature yew jade eyed 
searching through black needle lashes
lust hidden inside.

A yew pruned to perfection
would out strip the forest fine,
a single shutter caresses
like limbs on the wind.

With sweet clarity refined
will be the bowed head of yew
for our love is so inclined
for generations....

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the purple leaves
unroll their sleeves
to frosty days
and longing rays

the thorny twigs
and stumpy-pruned sticks
secretly hides deep inside
the summer’s petalled pride

but sap will rise
to cloudy skies
to meet and catch
the swollen rays

with skirt of thatch
a blouse displays
a hidden promise 
of perfumed sprays...

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