Weeping man,  
all alone,  
reading text  
upon his phone.  

No eye contact,  
no face to face—  
her distant words  
lacking grace.  

Flowers dumped  
in public vase;  
intended ring  
reflects his face.  

He walks away  
to numb the pain,  
mixing bourbon  
and weak *******.  

To lap of love  
with plastic gold—  
a stranger’s flesh  
he needs to hold.  

Broken dreams,  
an empty bed;  
missing wallet,  
pounding head.  

Drunken walk,  
lacking grace,  
finding flowers  
in public vase.  

Weeping man,  
all alone,  
walks the street  
miles from home.  

By Darren Wall ©

Celestial and spritely flower head
A cloud of white in a wheel
A spread of stars on a sunny bed
Enchanting - a vision ethereal
Blooming afar and clustering nigh
What bud, what blossom, what ****
Blowing away with just a sigh
In a breath, in the wind that breathes.
While the rose is crowned and daisies loved
How often are you brushed away
But magic lies in your snowy fluff
As wishes fly night and day
You greet the morning, a languid dawn
As the skies turn pink and bright
Then gather close with the moon's rising song
That plays with the coming of night
A fairy's flower you seem to me
A joy - a charm - a delight
Flying away over meadows and leas
In the wind with your wings of white.

Towering cotton white orchids.
Splattered with a purple hue,
like fresh pooled blood stains.  
If death had occured,
the orchids are oblivious
and unapologetically vain.  
Bizarre and exotic.  
Petals plush and ******.  
The orchid's eye bores into me and see,
me writhing in the broken chrysalis  
of my massacred dreams.  
The orchids know that all
is not what it seems......
Even in the most dire of times
the cost of hope is free......
They whisper, emerge...
and tower tall and unique,
like the beauty of me......

The buds anxiously wait to burst through
warmer, softer ground.
They sprout like a secret lacking sound.
First signs of spring and the excited joy they bring.
Accompanied by joyous melodies the birds do sing.
Robin's, dressed in their red breast, hop everywhere.
A sky saturated blue, provokes a happy hypnotic stare.
The sun's soft spring heat shines on the thick, smooth buds.
Sometimes what is fragile is at the same time tough.
And renewal of earth and heart is abundantly enough.

We venture into the storm
Against my better judgment
(I’m ready to go home)

The wind kicks up
And a thousand
No
A million flower petals
Swirl around us frenetically.
Great beasts of raw, hungry light snap their jaws
Not so far away

You aren’t scared,
Your curls wild in the dark.
The storm, you say.
The storm, Mama!

The sirens, now,
And the rain,
And so many flower petals.

We turn and head back inside
To wait a little longer.

Wintertime's hoarfrost, ice and rime
Have gone; departed hath the Gloom.
Make haste, ye maids, in Lilac Time:
Collect your Blossoms whilst they bloom.
What blooms today soon fades away:
Gather ye Lilacs while ye may,
Sith times, like Flying Saucers, zoom.

Oh, Lily
How beautifully you lie there,
In the curly waves of the river
Golden beams gently touch your skin
As a way to wake the sleeping saint

A trumpet of petals calls me from afar;
It is the only thing that I hear
Blaring in a quiet hearth
Where a name without vowels is engraved
I wander, unaware of its gentle retreat.

I watch it dance
Six needles holding the stamen
Like a surfboard grasping for its life
One more whirl of the winds,
Then it would fall on the carpel's feet.

I sojourned in this garden once;
You might never see me or I might never see you
Let Zeus lurk for Hera's liquid at last
'Till it splashes, stained, and bloom
In every season of my mind.