Week 28 – photograph by Marilyn Benson
Once again some lovely poems submitted. The winner is Anita Pinto with Smile Blossoms. Congratulations to Anita.
Poem 1
Green Fingers
Thin female fingers
pick the bloom
early dawn on the appointed day
chosen from his garden
heavy white flowers
ready for a brown oak box
nourished by his hands
from birth to blossom
now laid to rest
with the gardener.
Andy Scotson
—————————————————————————————————————————————————————-
Poem 2
Nuptials
Virginal tulle leaves sprout clusters
cascades of white petals, Spring
robed for her wedding stands
throwing maiden buds, blossoms
to catch Summer’s idle skies.
We imbibe Pimm’s, Wimbledon
headless of the raging silent ripening.
September her muffed bridegroom
hovers waiting for harvest, the shutting
light to steal her from the feast; carry
her to Winter, his cold silent bed.
Carolyn O’Connell
———————————————————————————————————————————————————
Poem 3
Summer Rose
Summer rose,
you have stolen my words.
Too beautiful to describe,
your petals speak
of love no words
can adequately say.
A gift for sadness,
joy, celebration
and friendship,
you say it all.
A visual week of comfort
when the going is tough.
your petals speak,
and as they drop
and fall, so sadness fades.
Your single stem
a caress
of heartbreak
no words can convey
and as your perfume
spreads and surrounds,
so love
grows strong.
Angie Butler
————————————————————————————————————————————————————-
Poem 4
Smile Blossoms
I stand quietly by the side of the house
No one comes to visit
Or admire
Wild exuberance is vulgar they say
Vibrant colour is fashionable they say
Single blooms are romantic they say
But my perfume fills the house
And wafts up to the old lady
Who smiles
And the richness of my green leaves smile
And my buds multiply and smile
And my fragrance smiles
Anita Pinto
——————————————————————————————————————————————————-
Poem 5
Tainted Arrangement
What does it take to paint a picture pretty
with words? Who thinks in rose-tinted hues
where love blossoms in fanciful verse?
From a wholesome heart where angels praise
white petals as the God’s blessings for those
they find the forgiveness to choose?
What if I pick you – the one I desire;
my Kamasutra? We fall for one another,
pricking our skin on the thorny journey
between wanton limbs. Once clipped;
life-stem removed for the essence to curl
in bloodless clarity to its inevitable
end. We smell sweet goodness –
Our words pool in unity, basking in
full bloom of the midday sun.
Have I colour-washed this picture rosy –
or do we lie amongst this seasonal
flora in genetically modified
fear?
Hannah Teasdale
—————————————————————————————————————————————————————
Poem 6
White Roses
I’m told it is such an honour to receive them – or is it
thinking back – possibly, but I’m not sure in my youth – yes, I would have claimed them,
might I have been laughed at – perhaps, but only for a while.
In my innocence, to be locked behind bars all day
seemed more right – more pure
I’ve been an excellent liar of thieving, mugging,
kidnapping, and this was only on the inside!
Heaven knows, climbing, budding just like you white rose – it can’t have been that easy
I also had to earn my reverence since I was fifteen.
Nowadays I’m top dog in this grey, chilly gaol,
working in the gardens
I look after you,
in the precincts of the jail
your see-through petals of the forgiving material you present me with
just like when gran cried, imploring, her pure white hands spilling with hope
and not forgetting I too have tried to escape. I did for a while.
But I’m not getting out now, I’m a lifer, I’ve got my dreamland
the man who killed my mother.
Johanna Boal
