Soft velvety petals
Against the storm
Entangle her soul
Struggles to be free
Its wrath subsides
And the flower stands tall
Brightest of them all
Wearing the yellowest of bonnets
The greenest of gowns
She curtsies up and down
And turns to the sun
Petals tainted wild gold
Amongst murky swamps
She shines bright
A Lily hurt me deeply
How could something so soft be so hard
It poked and it shamed me
With it's lilac petals and green bone
When I touched it, felt softness
When I looked away, sensed stone
This is what the Spring gave me!
A soft looking Lily
With a penchant for scorn
march 21 2017
You, my love, are the fleur-de-lis.
The offspring of innocence
The embodiment of purity
Silk are your eyes
For they look on with such suppleness
The lustre of your soul is reflected through those windows
Fair is your heart
For it reverberates much passion
Much tenderness; much hope
It loves profound
With the suave movements of your heartbeat
Another tender petal falls
A touch softer than a summer's evening breeze
Warmer than early morning's first rays
More comforting than a new-born's first motherly embrace
A touch more hauntingly beautiful than nature's grace
Une petite fleur, merveilleuse et vraie
Fragrance of divinity
Constantly blooming; forever beguiling
You, my darling, are the fleur-de-lis.
Floating green, shiny jewels
relaxing reflection in lake pools
glistening peace on waxy leaves
listening to hope in croaks' pleas
the ancient sound of language in trees
Ah, the serenity of frog stools
and the cleansing of a soft breeze!
Thanks for reading! K:)
Delicate and pure
soft and saturated
she stands before me
with a deep azure sky
beneath her eyes
and an inferno of locks
There is a presence
she holds on to tightly,
but I see beneath the rough surface
and gleam into
the kaleidoscope of her past
shaped of only the most radiant hues
I wish to smell, taste, and touch
every color she is composed of-
for she is a blooming lily
I feel so young and happy sometimes,
When I see, the beauty reflected in you each day,
And when I see you, I see the sunshine,
I love you more than words can say...
You're so beautiful! These summer days are excellent! So warm,
Your bright yellow color, it's beautiful!
Even, when your petals and life fade into shadows...
I am absolutely in awe of you!
Your Soul is vibrant; your heart is young,
And my heart is warmed by your yellow sunshine,
I could go on, and watching you grow 'til life was done,
This Intense happiness your petals reflect,
Like a golden lily in sunlight,
And for you, Mother Nature,
Thank you for this warm summer,
A summer filled with sunshine and flowers.
Copyright © 2016 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
I saw in the distance a girl,
and saw her lips with a smile curl.
I walked past tufts of grass
In pursuit of the lovely lass
And as I got nearer,
My passion got fiercer.
I was enchanted by this beauty
To be near it was my duty.
Wind swayed her hair
Covered her face fair.
Ah Nature! Why do you hide her from me?
I wish to see her, give me that liberty!
I picked up a lily
From the side of the road
The mud made my boots greasy
But I didn’t care, I strode…
I gave her the flower,
Told I’d climb a tower
And endure tens of whips,
Just to look at her lips
She smiled so coyly,
Egged me on seductively,
To grab her hips
and plant a kiss.
Then she laughed merrily,
And walked away casually.
If only for a moment,
I was destined to have felt this
I didn’t lament,
It was still bliss.
After my mother died, my room was filled with roses. When the flowers died, my room was filled with their sweet, rotten stench for weeks on end; it sunk into my pores and into my DNA and years later, I still smell like dead roses.
My sister confuses this smell with dead lilies.
A bouquet of red roses was placed atop my mother’s coffin as it lowered six
feet down into the earth. After the roses died, I wonder if my mother could
smell them like I did? I wonder if she still smells them, or, more likely, how long it took for the roses to disintegrate into dust like her?
We don’t talk about the body after death because we don’t like to be reminded of how vulnerable we really are. In high school, a boy asked me to prom using roses and lilies that were all different shades of reds and oranges and yellows like fire. Lilies like funerals and tombstones and formaldehyde.
I don’t think he meant to remind me of death. I don’t think his intention was to place me in a casket similar to my mother’s with its pink padded walls. I don’t think he realized that’s where I went when I saw his basement covered in bouquets of hellfire. I think he meant the roses to be romantic,
but I looked at them and saw my mother’s putrefying face, saw her intestines eaten away by savage bacteria and bugs, saw her eyelids drying out and peeling back like black and dead and withered lily petals. Embalming does not prevent decomposition, only prolongs it. I have embalmed my mother's
memory in the shape of a teal notebook. I cannot tell if it has
begun to decay or not.
Have you felt its bite?
Devour all my
It gorges upon all that is
Black breath flows
that saps my strength
My soul yearns to take flight!
Yet here i remain
Paralyzed by the
Gaze of this unrelenting
Will there be
Can i hope for
Or is my yearning
Death throes of
Out like a
It shall not
Come from you,
Food for the maidens
Despoiler of my
i require another
i know it can
One who can
Remove this yoke
Who can vanquish this doubt?
Who shall turn my discordant
Into a sinphony?
He is the
That will catch my boulder
As it threatens to crush
At the bottom of this
So come to me!
i haven’t the strength to yell.
If you can hear
Well acquainted with
i am not
Of this i
For the wilting of the