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Posts Tagged ‘flower’

rflower graphic

When potent flowers no longer seduce,
the cat has just one life,
Writer and the chopping block
head-to-head; defeat.
Magnified objects in frozen time
drops the jaw too slow,
words come a second too late,
awkward space ensue.

Crowds take talent to remain unseen,
mind and soul detached,
painter and his model–nude–
nothing else but paint,
one duty, one cause for attention,
emotions: distractions,
the trash lady and her uniform,
hand them to her.

Weight of the world is an understatement
add a century a dreams burnt,
Biblical stories of revival and rebirth,
remain grouped letters.
I rest my case deep in sleep
buried painfully,
that poor bird and its broken wing
doubtful hope in death.

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the flower that blooms
and the flower that wilts
same culprit judges both.

From here the rays darken my skin
from there I’m red as Hell

we eat ourselves by not eating
his stomach swelled as he starved,
by what science can it be explained
we endanger ourselves

dressed in wool one smart brain,
her IQ far beyond the stars,
who could shoot her down?
only her,
and indeed I saw a falling star

Growth never accompanied without a few steps back

So said one drunk on norms,
through youthful wisdom on alcohol stench,
empty pockets came too late,
swimming in his own urine.

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popp graphic

Blood red petals circle a whorl of stamens,
Luscious breath of opium
I savor
the taste of ecstasy
spellbinding pact,
who made you King?

Sick russet petals and shriveled leaves,
wrinkled towers of plight–
or slumber–
impatient orbit never waits,
turns and turns
die another year.

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A red sun rises,
Drops of blood on flower leaves,
Blooms a crimson bulb

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Every Bump in the Road (40)

road graphic

Humans,
we change like seasons,
Full throttle
decrease,
reverse,
revived.

Some say
A murderer
will always
be
a
murderer–
that people
never
change…

That we
are
incapable
because such
is our nature,
untamed,
always wavering
like the seasons
we see
so often.

Outside
my flowers
are in full bloom,
yet they
are
tilted…
no matter the times
my hands held them
straight
up,
they tilt towards
the sun.

Promises made,
broken,
made again.
Forward
backward,
an endless pattern,
another cycle,
wishful thinking
at very
best.

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Sunday Haiku (21)

Pink snow sprinkled down
Sea of petals on the ground:
Coat for a puddle

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Give me a Rose (13)

rose graphic

Dear Rose, your petals red
Haunt me ghostly dread,
I plucked you once and bled,
To me your mother said,
“Pass the thorns or flee
Every love demands a fee”

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