To ANYONE I've ever loved:
My heart is not a board game.
It is NOT OK to play with it.
The results may be temporary fun for you,
but it has a lasting effect on me.
So if I offer my heart to you,
on a silver platter,
adorned with jewels
and fragrant with love.
Please do not taste its honey
and indulge in its goodness
if you do not plan on letting me love you
for the rest of my life.
I'd rather watch you from a distance,
admiring your beauty
what it like to be loved by you.
Than to pry my fragmented heart
from your beautiful hands.
Hopes and dreams
are soft and fragile
as the petals above.
Bathing and blossoming
in the radiating warmth,
love and happiness
of the sun.
But attached to these
are thorny stems
the one needs to climb
to bathe and breathe
the intoxicating and enriching aura.
Easy it is to be caressed by
the soft-wine colored petals.
Easy it is to breath in the aura
of the fragrant roses.
But are you ready to come close
hold the razor sharp thorns;
enduring the pain of the thorny stems
are you ready to accept the roots
from which she grew.
In the fields of fragrant flowers,
I see Mother’s supple silhouette
shimmering with the soft sunlight.
Her hair tied with peony barrette;
Sweet smiles radiate at sight.
The sentimental scents of myrrh
Wafts from her body; my eyes gleam;
I run towards and embrace her.
Is this a dream? Is this a dream?
In the fields of fragrant flowers,
This time and space is of great blest-
I wish there was no tomorrow.
For months I have been left bereft.
I tell mother of my sorrow;
I wish to be with her and roam
Away from life’s chaos and gloom.
Return to the land of our home,
And see orchid blossoms bloom.
I ask mother if I could stay;
Thousand tears cloud her gentle eyes;
She kisses me like rainy day;
It is time to awake and part!
My heart weeps with the wintry wind.
Her spirit; many miles apart.
I am alone and left behind
To face this world’s reality.
Must this be my sad destiny?
All that is left
Is scents of fragrant flowers.
(c) 2018 Joanne Chang
There is a thing that makes someone that we love and rose become our favorite things.
Beautiful yet lovely
Fragrant yet addicting
They are also painful
Like Rose which has torn and bleed our arm when we touch it
Like someone that we love who promise us something, but only words which gone hopeless until we upset with tears.
It always ended up to loving and wanting them back, over and over. Even though we knew how it felt being hurt.
I begin to stir
Fragrant scents of memories
Wake to see sunlight
Starting the day with a haiku!
Someone once asked me, "How does it taste?"
I responded, "Perfumey." because I didn't think that they would understand, "Fragrant."
They still didn't get it.
So I tried to make them understand what was meant when things were called "fragrant"
...and then I tried to get them to identify with smelling a smell so strong that you can taste it- I gave up...
"I'm just weird. The food is good."
Hey you there, oh thou drooping rose
what are you trying to disclose?
It seems that time has passed quickly
and left you now looking sickly.
You once were so bright and fragrant
but now you are like a vagrant;
shedding down all those body parts
before the expected end starts.
Was it because of your placement
in front of a sheer glass casement
on that window sill sun-exposed
and in midday hours being closed?
My sympathy for you dear friend
it looks as if you're near the end.
Written late Nov.2017.
Inspired by actual matter of fact events as penned in the poem after placing a cut rose in a small vase with water on the window sill in the kitchen.
Standing alone in the courtyard, there she stands swaying in the humid breeze, a yard in the open she is a humble to fragrant Plumeria trees. Oh how I loved the wind before he took you from me, tell me it was all false and stay awhile is my only plea.
You did a swirl and you twirled in white and yellow, only to turn me into a sad old fellow!
Well I’ve waited for twenty years my love, clinging to your hopeless memory, of how there was a day that came where you couldn’t remember me.
In a dream I was walking, all alone.
A flower; I saw-
off in the distance..
it was all alone, like me.