Like sweet cotton candy
are my flowers light pink
no one slips on them
nor do they stink
Schnookums, your cat
enjoys her window seat
eyeing birds in my arms
and I feel so complete
We go back many years
you've watched me grow
now I'm tall as the house
you love me -- I know
I beg you keep this in mind
(don't wish to cause hysteria)
but I noticed days were numbered
for the neighbor's chopped plumeria
So please don't cut me down
like next door's unblooming tree
Look at me! I'm in bloom! :-)
Pray, just let me be
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
2/27/2023
In Bloom Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
SOUND FOREIGN COMPANION
FAILED WOUND MESSIAH
SPELLS UNBLOOMING NOTE
AMPUTEE BAND SUPERNOVA
EXPLODES FROM UNIVERSE END
ETERNITY BELLOWING THROAT
HEAT SUTRA -- MILLION DEATHS!
CLEAVE BLACK
BEE HIVE ONTOLOGY LIQUID
WET BETWEEN THE GAP
FUTURE PAST WITHIN YOU SPEAKS!
"WAIT. T U R N B A C K!"
I smile when you are near though my eyes look lost
Their sparkle and twinkle forever gone, not only my cost
I search always longing for the peace I can’t remember
Feeling the love you offer and I don’t know though warm and tender
Hiding in my confusion, fear guarding the gates
Will I ever educe in me the love I see in your face
Words and thoughts elude me, I know only I’m forgetting
Things my mind has owned, a distant path I’m setting
To remember how to remember, I fight each day to find
Memories each day unblooming and dying in my mind
Knowing I should know, this light grows ever dim
Losing the strength I possess, a battle I cannot win
The day when I look at you with no recognition in my eyes
Know it is out of my hands and I’ve lost my awesome prize
The ledge is where it begins
and ends. She feels her slip rise,
her rusted wings quiver into use.
She knows the wind has a language
of its own too. Its trusted wet tongue fills
its mouth. She could never put it back together
in time. She recoiled, unblooming
like the moon daisy at dawn.
The moon remains unconcerned,
her faces stare as blank as snow.
She forgets her past, her future stunted too.
She's seen enough, she's sure.
Her black eyes frail from overuse.
Like the Earth, she is old before her time.
As a graffitied flower, she feels impure.
in her forever empty nest
the ghosts of unhatched eggs press their
little faces to the window, their shallow breaths
trying to frost the glass. She is the mother of dust,
draped in cobwebs thick as dirt.
She slips it back. She has known the outside
too well. At last, she tries to fly.
Fear grips a family of words.
You are going to where you do not want
to go.
I remain worried about the unknown.
The inevitable was flowering
on dead palms.
Would you exhume the past to find out,
what the divinity has buried
along the panicles of croci ?
I do not understand this war
between glaciers and guns.
Can we drink together the elixir
of death dripping from the snow peaks ?
Sun was screaming from the unblooming trees.
Satish Verma
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