I ask my flowers..
They show spots, scars
Unwelcome visitors
Eroding fine display
Bugged by this
They pull up to sky
To climb higher
A royal bouquet
On our faces
We read them
Like palm lines
Mine long and broken
Immediately filled
With love
Looking so much
Like pain, longing
Confusion
Though silent willing
To never let
This moment end
To nurture soil
Grow colour
A smile
To look into light
To unfurl
Holding on
Gently
For hope
Seemingly
Forever
Bowl of red roses
One thorn
Field of clover
One bee
Picnic in grove
One ant
Sleeping dogs lie
One flea
Magnanimous reply
One word
Deep belly sigh
One spurn
Long tanned thigh
One burn
One yearns to turn
A blind eye
To all the ones
That lead to our
Undoing
If we erase
One line
How delightful
It would be
Paring down
All nature's will
To living without
One penetrating
Sting
Would deprive us
Of so many
Beautiful things
One by one
Memories come
As first drops lightly
Before a lavishing
At once dissipating
On parched broken land
Then blanket covering
Moving sun's dwelling
Into hiding
Between them both
Daylight quench thirst
One without the other
No dancing dresses
Come out
Parched tongues dip
Into warm clear springs
Going underground
To yield every colour
Known to the eye
Above and below
Bed of growth
Light touch sows
Till sun retires
Dewdrop gathers
For next bow
In the sky
Think you're flying free
But really, attached
Grounded
Just learning
To spread wings
Until when
One touch
Caving in
Any thought
Of leaving
Ends
Instead sowing seeds
Raising up anew
In case we meet
Again
So spine tingling
Knuckle gripping
Pillow hugging
Daze eyed drinking
Hard when comes time
To realise the dream
Is not real
We will wake
Whenever we're ready
Or else stay
Asleep
Chiselling our hard edges
Chip off the block
Re-generational
On the verges
Stepping over fallen
Taking time to notice
Memorial to inner beauty
Scars an artwork
Memory of all
Everlasting
All along swollen banks
Branches laden with seeds
Heavy from drenching
Rain flooding under feet
An intricate beauty
Calls you to attention
Saying, 'look at me!'
Brushing away dark grey
Standing on her shoulders
Not knowing what to call
Each delight before me
Like a mother she whispers
Call it love
A pink garden variety
Lands on my bedside
Table, couch beside
Picked by hands called love
Machines flooding
House of high tide afloat
Evidence of daily life
To keep warm bodies
Queues of words
Responded in kind
Bring down softly
Tears for fears
Pictures fill the mind
From near, afar, not yet
Teaching me to just be
Naming the days
Abandoning that which
Does not nurture
Grow or teach me
Feed will to love daily
For us
How your hair moves
Gently in the breeze
Put mind at ease
Surround with green
Reminding me
Special treasures
Await when we leave
Path well travelled
Ends curling upwards
Humidity, too fine
To be trampled
Beneath our feet
Finished work at 5pm. Went for walk in the rain. Resting on my warm couch waiting. For kitchen to be cleaned so I can dirty it again.
…and thanks for all the fish
Douglas Adams
