Delicate petals bear delicate souls
Delicate souls bear the truth that's untold
I love the fragility of flowers
The shimmer of their petals rids dour
I wish that the flowers could be people
Then maybe there wouldn’t be much evil

Lily is a darling, sweet and lively
Lilies of the valley, killed by Ivy
Lily’s not like lily of the valley
Lily stays alone, and yet they rally
She is in love with the deep and arcane
Shy, kind words slip off her tongue like her name

Rose, oh Rose, oh how poor Rose doesn’t know
Heart beats louder, than the call of a crow
She crawls in far too deep to save those lost
Oh but she doesn’t know what it’ll cost
Always using her liquid, red, love
Her cherry tears can’t save them from above

Buttercup, gentle but don't let her fool
Her words are savory, her actions jewels
Her charm shines, her wisdom it glitters
She consoles, though it shimmers, it withers
It wears at her lips which leak sweet, gold, ooze
She does it so her sunshine nurtures you

Lotus, she’ll help you wash it all away
Don't even worry, forget all your pain
She is so convincing, she’ll hold your hand
Her breath leaves your mind on a better land
She’ll stay, wise that it’ll hurt you if she leaves
You’ll never be lonely, and never grieve

Marigolds wisdom all lies in the years
Centuries, she has seen all laughter and tears
Her shoulder, always a cradle for minds
And her Bonne Journée at the end of the night
Her wrinkly skin entertains with tales
Think you aren’t needed, for you, she will vail


Daisy, my favorite of all people made
Her heart bursts with life, her skin color drained
Her warm smile will melt your icy darkness
Your self drained soil, now a lively garden
Stop using tears, oceans of misery
Salt isn"t good for the evergreens baby

break the poem
open like a pomegranate

spill the seeds
squeeze the juice
and
**** the flesh

when we were kids
we played in
mother's garden:
carrots, strawberries,
rhubarb, tomatoes,
plums, raspberries,
cucumbers, pumpkins,
green beans, watermelon,
onions, potatoes
and
a goldfish named Pierre

he died after
my parents
cleaned his tank
and didn't rinse
it properly

done in by soap--
life can be such a
fragile thing sometimes

we buried him
in the garden
and marked his
grave with a
smooth river stone

one summer
we picked a great
big watermelon
from its dirt nap;
heavy as a bowling
ball and green
as a cat's eye

we heaved it onto
the picnic table
and carved it into
smaller
and smaller wedges
until each one
of us was holding
our very own
chunk of melon

everyone dug in
after admiring their
piece for a moment;
eating it with
their eyes
before their
mouths

but as I went
to bite into mine
I noticed a seed
in the way

so I peeled
at it to free it
and as I fingered
the dripping flesh
of the fruit
the 'seed' revealed
itself to be
not a seed at all

but the eye
of a goldfish
staring back at me
lodged in the melon
in its death throws
gasping for
breath in the
open air

its mouth opening
and closing like
it had a secret
to tell

I stood there
in stupefaction
when suddenly
it slipped free of
its womb
and landed in the grass
behind me

but when I
turned around
to retrieve it
I couldn't find it

there was no goldfish
anywhere in that yard
I checked under
my feet
under the picnic table--
under other people's
feet--nothing

"what are you
looking for?" someone
asked

"nothing," I said,
because who
would've believed it
anyway?--I'm not
even sure if I did--
"just thought I dropped
something."

I stood back up
feeling different
about the world--
like the mystery
ran deeper than any
of us realize--
looked at
my hunk of fruit
and discovered
I wasn't hungry
anymore

so I put
it down on
the picnic table
and walked over
to Pierre's grave

there, underneath
that river stone,
was a watermelon seed
just beginning to
sprout

I smiled in
bewilderment
and gently covered
it with fresh soil
moving the stone
a few centimeters
off the sprouting seed

'Pierre, the watermelon
fish,' I thought--
wiping the dirt
from my hands--

'I wonder what
death has in store
for me?'

Tumbling down a hole in the earth:
Alice and her wonderland

(but that was just a mistake
of writing)

I was talking about the bushes in my garden
And the open skies
Of the lowlands;
What of it?

There is a colourful little finch
in the shrubs of my garden

There is a majestic eagle
(they that live here call Chipungu)
A self-contained buttress against
The blue heavens

I pick apart the marigolds petals in my hands
wishing for way back then.

Why did you leave me?
When our future looked so bright together.

The garden wilts everyday.
The thorns overgrow on the cliff we used to sit on.

We had forever
Why did you leave me here.

When the day passes noon
There is only silence to keep me company

Your shadow still overcasts the empty spot to my left
Your eyes still tear through the running creek water.

The sun has never been the same
I thought we would get through this together.

Now I am here, overgrown, exhausted, and desperate
This garden will burn along with me.

I sit in the same cliff, letting the crackling of the flames keep me company with its twisted disharmony.
I pick apart the marigold in my hands.

At least its not silent anymore.

-Kore

let me tend to the butterflies in my stomach
so when you step into my world
you'll see a garden full of colour.

Lay still beneath the swaying leaves
The gentle green and awning eves
Late evening sun to slip away
From purple gold to silver grey
Stay with me here as twilight falls
And shadows grow along the walls
Ivy covered and of ancient stone
Long centuries has this garden grown
It will be here still when we awake
When sleep has left and dawn does break

I am counting things
at night numbers, dreams
hum of a hundred bells
soft harps to soothe
sweet with birds colored blue
in the tiger grass, big eyed cats
twitchy whiskers and paws
they sleep beneath tree limbs
branches wild and gnawed.

Do not wake me
while the garden is glowing
a thousand flowers in rows
I am fixed on violets
hydrangeas indigo blue
with fingers I paint thick
brick in red rose variants
on the lawn peacocks in resplendence
with monde blue-green iridescence
and a million gypsophila clouds pass by.