before you even
open your mouth, have you ever
considered the weight
of one's
word?

if one would
like to speak of a
flower,
one should wash their
mouth with tea,
and make sure
their speaking is
as clean it can
be

In our lifespan, by the time we truly understand,
Understand what we are living for,
We are already old.
‘Spring’ represents ‘Youth’,
As the four season change,
Time flows quickly as well.
Our memories are faint like a river of stars,
My longing is as clear as the moon in the sky.
Autumn has knocked my door once again,
I continue to weave green thread,
Forming a spiral.
Engraved there my memories,
Autumn has taken it elsewhere.
Where I stood has turn pale,
‘Winter’ represents ‘Wither’.
I began to plant last year flower,
Outsider are crossed-eye,
While I alone tend to the flower til summer.

You are the force of nature,
That tames the wind of the storm.
Settling the water's surface,
Restoring peace and calm.
You suffered and have been in the depths of the water,
From the silt and debris,
You have risen, as a lotus flower.
And, just as the lotus flower,
You are seemingly unaware of your beauty that touches the many hearts of the eyes that befall upon you,
Most will pass in time,
They enrich with the charm you bring to their soul perhaps without your even knowing.
I marvel, for I am looking up from under,
As I rise to sit one day,
Alongside you.
To bathe in the sunlight,
With a smile in our souls that no storm can shake,
For we have sought the light and succeeded.
You achieved it and I now follow.
You accept that I fear I will not make it,
As the surface seems so far,
Though, by the strength of your stem, your soul,
The beauty in you that I see above me,
Makes me push myself,
Makes me stronger,
It makes me grow towards you,
To join you and bloom beside you.
You are my lotus flower and I seek the sunlight to be yours.

Courage, a flower
In this; my time of winter
I wither away

Born in darkness
Afraid of the world
When suddenly a beam of light
Shines through its core
One by one it opens up its shell
As it smiles to the sun it’s time for farewell

You who stirred the words into my soul,
Brought them to life, animated them
With allegory and wit.
As if the Nine Muses had sung to my ear,
And Calliope herself had donned me
With the poems she'd once writ.

Or Sappho of ******, among secretive violets,
Absorbed by the lyre, she pens to revive it;
Not the song, or the tune,
But the calm way the song moved
The violets across the field-
This inspiration, she could wield.

Don't you see now, how it's not poetry the poet will choose?
For every poem the poet pens one shall require an equal Muse.

I grew golden flowers in my garden
because I was tired of looking
for the beauty within me

dandelions
I sail to you through the great unknown
And tip toe on your white lines of gray matter
An acidic, atomic baby light blonde
  with a heart of stone trapped in a yellow rain cloud  

dandelions
In the syndicate of the hazel night moon
I smell their broken stems of wire
Wrapping my thighs in a sealed cocoon
Dancing in a brimstone fire

Melting in the midnight winds

dandelions
She can’t wait to roam free tonight
Feel the air flow between the thistle of my thyme    
And find her midtown morphine  
To soothe the demons, dancing in her mind

dandelions
Dispersing on a front porch swing
I scatter in the wisp of an ivory snow
Break a rhyme scheme, scream for rain
Pray for laughter,  bleed for growth