Pulling Petals

Daisy in the dark

Childhood sits in meadow bower,

pulling petals from a flower –

Love me not, or love me well,

only days to come will tell.

Time moves on, and hope blooms bright,

but girlish dreams will die this night.

*

Maiden rests in meadow green,

pulling petals from their sheen;

dying, petals lose their bloom

as tears soak bridal glory’s tomb.

Time moves on, and hope fades fast,

the die is set, her fate is cast.

*

Mother sinks in meadow shade,

pulling petals in the glade;

habit tells her love belongs

to children and their hopeful songs.

Time moves on, and hope lies dead,

daisies, fringeless, sink like lead.

*

Woman weeps in meadow bare,

pulling petals which aren’t there;

empty heart bleeds petals past,

and bleeding, seeds its peace at last.

Time moves on, and hope renews,

as Wounded hands hold girl’s deep bruise.

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Stunning

Stunning are your smiles, fair rose,

Stunning are your petals;

Lovely are the sculpted tips

That show the world your mettle.

Frosted shades on canvas bold

Are your stunning blossoms;

With your friends, your bold display

Would pay a Kingly ransom.

After the Storm

After the storm, the petals have fallen,

Gravity spoke, and persuaded the fall;

Sepals held out as long as they could,

But glue holding flower answered the call,

Relinquishing blossom, ashes to earth,

A dazzling litter of dying perfume;

Beauty in living, lived in full splendor –

Wrapped in death’s pallor, a beautiful tomb.

Every stage in life holds a wild and unique beauty; from birth to death, our paths hold deep significance and value.

Woman

I am woman.

Cut me, and I’ll bleed true pink,

From blushing pretty rose-dipped vein.

Show me vermin, and I’ll shriek,

For creatures vile are my true bane;

But give me embryo to hold,

And fiercest love will bloom in breast;

Give me causes to uphold,

And I will fight without a rest.

Delicate are petals rose,

Vulnerable is beauty weak;

But inner strength is woman’s prose,

And fierce her soul, in package meek.

I am woman.

Strong.

Soft.

Me.

You Dare to Bloom…

Daring and brave, this.

Do you feel the weight of your missing petals?

Symmetry has gone on an extended vacation;

Harmony of composition eludes you.

The buds nearby retain their superior potential

And snigger behind your back,

A symphony of clashing comments

All the louder for their implied silence.

What makes you bloom?

Yours is not a  lot to be fawned over,

Celebrated with a named star on a famous sidewalk,

Or heralded by brilliantly garish marquee lights.

And yet –

You dare to bloom…