"amaryllis" poems
O singer of Persephone!
In the dim meadows desolate
Dost thou remember Sicily?
Still through the ivy flits the bee
Where Amaryllis lies in state;
O Singer of Persephone!
Simaetha calls on Hecate
And hears the wild dogs at the gate;
Dost thou remember Sicily?
Still by the light and laughing sea
Poor Polypheme bemoans his fate;
O Singer of Persephone!
And still in boyish rivalry
Young Daphnis challenges his mate;
Dost thou remember Sicily?
Slim Lacon keeps a goat for thee,
For thee the jocund shepherds wait;
O Singer of Persephone!
Dost thou remember Sicily?
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The golden light shines bright
But does not reach the abyss of my being
Yet.
An Oracle showed me the way;
But it is I,
who must now choose the path I take.
Leaving the insouciance of my place of birth
For the big, beautiful and scary world.
The path is, however, not the end,
What matters most is how the traveller crosses it;
Living for love, wisdom and knowledge,
On a path of tears, joy, and pain;
Is preferable to living for fake happiness
On a path of lies, deceit and sorrows.
The forest is waking up
On the dawn of a new day;
One where I will blossom like the Amaryllis
Until dusk catches up
And fate leaves me forsaken.
But before the slow marching of time
And its eternal sleep
Get to me,
I will make sure to fully live my life,
For one must die to live eternally.
From the dawn of adulthood
To the dusk of my life
I will make sure to get remembered
And to make you mine.
For I believe we share a fate,
A mind,
And a love.
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 9:06 AM UTC
pressed against a gentle river of bedsheets
falling loose from the mattress with every wave
to finally intertwine in the rythym of our heartbeats
i cannot help being depraved, as each motion makes me crave
"adore me, adore me, all that much, and more"
i plead, i cry, and his hands overwhelm mine
"a pretty little thing, obedient and kind, perfect for a *****
as long as he gives me attention, all will be fine
all he's ever shown is the blushing red of kisses and bites
and all he's ever known is a cruel kind of rational
but even with all the flowers he gives, he never seems to fight
and it all seems to decay into something entirely foul
im done with the suffocating scent of amaryllis that i let fill my arteries
the sweet sticky pollen that tightens my throat so i can no longer breathe
Jan 3, 2023
Jan 3, 2023 at 9:19 PM UTC
With blooms apparent, "crocus patch" revealed as amaryllis instead.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 10:17 AM UTC
You should know
You're just a temporary fix
She's a ****
An obscured partial eclipse
She runs and hides
Behind a mask of addictive scripts
She's the game
You just feel good against her melanin
You should know
She's incoherently captivating
She's a naked lady
Amaryllis Belladonna
Poisonous and pink
She'll hit a switch you can't describe
Concurrently splitting your spine
Yet enhancing the fruits of your mind
She's a ****
And you're just a temporary fix
Where she lives
Love does not exist
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 5:24 PM UTC
i miss you
such much, it hurts
i think about you, incessantly
the pain, is overwhelming
the grief unbearable
i remember you
in every corner of my life
last sight at night
first though at dawn
over breakfast, i would marvel at your beauty
i would savor your scent
my heart would quicken
as you would lean over and kiss my lips
i remember the excitement, feeling your lips press against mine
ever so soft, moist, and sweet
i would savor our kisses, touching lips to lips
softly caressing, sliding mine against yours, till you pulled back and smiled
your kisses were delicate, tender, like the wet petal of an amaryllis
firm, soft, nubile
your youth and beauty were exquisite, overwhelming
the source of light and life in a dark forest
why were you taken from me
how can it be, our love ends in tragedy
it is not fair
i don’t understand
why is Persephone punishing me
i shall never forget our intimacy
i will cry eternally
now that you are gone
and haunt my days
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 12:25 PM UTC
The Pansies curtsied deeply, in their flouncy purple dress,
To the yellow Jonquils; and then only to impress.
And Amaryllis hides her newly naked-lady stem,
But her bouffant clothing opens, at each thrill of puffing wind.
The Bluebell always bows her head, when saying any grace,
Though Iris has Apollo's tears, fresh on her upturned face;
While Daffodil has sunshine, in her ringing petticoats-
Poor Honeysuckle is quite gone; all eaten up by goats.
Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 6:42 AM UTC
You want me to be your manic pixie dream girl
So today I am a gardener
I’ll plant daisies and you can put them in my hair
Tomorrow you’ll fall in love with the freckles on my nose
I’ll make you sing along to bands you’ve never heard of
We’ll stop on the side of a highway to watch the sunset
I’ll remind you of what it feels like to be alive
You tell me to be a supporting character in your great adventure
So I’ll tag along behind you
Make you stop and look at bugs on the sidewalk
You’ll love the way I’m not like other girls
I’ll get a tattoo of a flower on my ribs
You’ll call me amaryllis
And I’ll change my name because you want me to
I’ll be the garden you grow with your green thumb
The one you show off to your friends
Make them bask in my beauty until you feel better about yourself
Eventually I’ll lose my shimmer
No more golden glitter, just dust
You’ll write the final chapter of my life
Give me the unsuspecting ending you believe I deserve
Stuff me in a suitcase and bury me in the backyard
Make everyone believe I ran away
Chasing a romanticized version of life I could never give
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 10:49 PM UTC
Amaryllis in the Spring
because it's a pure & innocent thing
before a summer of rockets,
debris of hope—
*the Age of Discovery,
the Punishment of Lust*
an intravenous poison of decline forms
the new math: eye value minus itself
in waltz-time the body is radio-active,
there is no such thing as labor saving machinery
ask Garbo or Monroe, very happy one moment,
the next there was nothing left
their machines did the heavy lifting,
but one was not the loneliest number
Nov 30, 2021
Nov 30, 2021 at 10:14 PM UTC
my heart
beating for you
and blossoms
reaching up like hands from my pulsing heart
growing towards the sun,
(woven in the clouded sky)
flowers blooming upwards from my throat
clusters of amaryllis.
forget me nots
(please don’t forget me when I disappear)
florets and what not
dripping,
spilling
out of my mouth held wide open
as beautiful as fire,
stinging with blood,
sprouting from the cracks in between my teeth
how they flourish as I decay
reaching up until
my heart no longer
beats for you
Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 10:35 AM UTC
Amaryllis beauty
White, pink, delectable
Sweet symphony
Creating my immortal
Bring me joy
Bring me fluidity
You are close
I am farther
I am reaching
You are touching
Amaryllis flower
Green full of joy and laughter
Bring peace and clarity
You have created the original
piece of the puzzle
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 7:59 PM UTC
On the ground,
I keep an eye on the world,
the world of flowers,
I've seen succes like the Amaryllis,
the sweet sense of the Apple Blossom,
the desire of Camellia's passion,
and the forgiveness of the daffodil,
So many flowers in this world,
SO many possibilities
feels like a garden,
but something bothers me,
deep inside of me
something I always wonder,
watashi no hana wa doko desuka?
Where is my flower?
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 4:01 AM UTC
You took me to the beach house
along Amaryllis Street
so I could pick up where you left off
crushing waves against the rocks
the high tide
re-collecting in time-lapse images
how you had vanished up the dirt road of a lie
(sand between my teeth, on my tongue)
how I had buried bulbs of Amaryllis
in the wake of your goodbye
a casket of dormancy suspended
an unanchored buoyancy disposing of I
in seaweed trenches
besides
the Amaryllis bloomed
a distant wreath of pink trumpet heads
splitting
pushing through the time-lapse
holograms of a shallow rhizome mind
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 1:27 PM UTC
For one, the amaryllis and the rose;
The poppy, sweet as never lilies are;
The ripen'd vine, that beckons as it blows;
The dancing star.
For one, the trodden rosemary and rue;
The bowl, dipt ever in the purple stream
And, for the other one, a fairer due--
Sleep, and no dream.
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Fierce falls the rain
Summer's spite.
Beats down my wheat
and steals the light.
Like the raging wind
which bends and breaks the tree
The wrath of Amaryllis is to me.
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 6:09 AM UTC
The sun came up early one day
My eyelids burned with golden glow
I sat up amongst the wagging cat tails
And saw naked ladies by the stream
Their lips were a pale magenta
They had eyes that enraptured me
As I took their waiting hands
I felt skin as gentle as a flower
I swam with them in intimate bliss
The trees hid us from prying eyes
Their laughter filled the spring breeze
Bespelling everything that it touched
Together we drip-dried in the sun
They shared their sweet elixir with me
I drank until my heart was content
And kissed them all before evening came
We parted with sadness, but amiably
My weary limbs grew numb as I walked
Back to my home amongst the cat tails
I felt my insides weep with exhaustion
The aftertaste of their nectar was bitter
I looked back toward the stream in fright
But the beauties had closed their petals
And they lay limp in the night air
My love for them left me as I sank
Into the cat tails that still swayed
I closed my eyes and took my last breath
As eternal slumber overtook me
Sep 22, 2010
Sep 22, 2010 at 10:44 AM UTC
Turns a soft pirouette of finger end
Along the ridges of discs that make the spine
And I mark a period to end the sentence
Written upon soft skin
Smooth as a relaxed sigh that escapes parted lips
In a gentle exhale of seconds ticked off
One check (tick)
Two check ( tock)
I scribe to small of back where hollow forms
Letting tongue taste the salt of sweat glistening
Before a rise of hip curves to please eyes
Or palms that might erase dark windows staring back
At the blank gaze of face lost inside
The mirage of dreams
Three check (tick)
Four check ( clock tocked seconds rhyme)
With vowels moaned to the whisper of poems
Glyphed a slow summons of wrists gently turned
To show the veins that lie beneath as I bled softly
Along the nerves a simple thread of heartbeat
Rhythms show how a verse ends
A metaphor for the ribs caged
And stone to hold apart the looking glass world
Of Cheshire grins upon lips wet with wry spittle
Licked by tip of tongue
Breathes soft once upon times
To inhale the scent of amaryllis bloom
Gracing glass of its own with fair heads bloom
Petals of delicate hue opened vulnerable to bruise
Five check ( tick )
Six check ( toggle along mark of hands the tock)
I scribe soft to the end of line and pirouette fingers end
Marking a period again to end the simple words
Brushed upon a supple velum
And begin
Seven check (tick)
Second hands slow circles
Matching my own...
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 4:47 PM UTC
i'd like to
meet someone and
be weird with her :
clever texting
between classes, short-
sweet thoughtplumes, sent.
to you.
cheeks blush the reddest;
(if i were to peck
them, i think)
with romantic symmetry
when we talk to each other
with giggles
and curiosity
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 3:15 PM UTC
Mother threw me away
****** me in and spit me out
The pavement still tastes like your thighs
Like bubble gum underneath the chemistry table
Where I first held hands with
Some other girl I loved
Not knowing her reaction but
We burned flowers cut with kitchen knives.
I woke up to ashes lining my breakfast
Tongue thick with Amaryllis
Thinking if God asks you my name
Say serpent,
Say hello —
A disaster of two elements
You and me
If we combined
Our neon wrists.
Does Ares care about
How I touch you, with the lights off
You tell me the walls
Already know
What I do with my wolf teeth
And your caffeinated bellybutton,
They find you in three nights.
Rebirth is not as kind
To my combusting spine, replace
Ghost sin with your birth right
Jacob’s carnage
I paid for with eyelashes,
Long glances — my dignity
Wrapped in ****** white, and impotent boy skin
Becomes a coffin.
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 11:41 PM UTC
we take the signs of spring and call them grand
each knows they'll weep some day to see them pass
immortal symbols set by mortal hand
words tell us little but they have to stand
for all our knowledge of the wind on grass
we take the signs of spring and call them grand
since each bright sigil comes at sun's command
and all together form a joyous mass
immortal symbols set by mortal hand
reflection of the heart sprung from the land
for one short season then they're gone alas
we take the signs of spring and call them grand
inadequate the words so brief and bland
lacking in strength and grace like so much gas
immortal symbols set by mortal hand
need so much more for sentiments they fanned
their colours cannot stay within the glass
we take the signs of spring and call them grand
immortal symbols set by mortal hand
Apr 30, 2010
Apr 30, 2010 at 1:54 PM UTC
A clay *** holds your happiness.
It's halfway tall,
reaching up to your thigh,
Narrow, blown up in the middle, narrow.
Simple lid with a spherical dot for fingers to grasp,
and a black drawn line
that curls from base to lip,
and over.
Insides encumbered by sweet darkness,
shaded glory,
because outside,
gleaming.
Spiraled gold that must have dribbled off the sun's ice cream cone
leaked through the bottom where the end had broken
and flavor escaped
to land on your mirthful urn.
Blue so clear,
the sky surely lost a piece of itself
as a crack appeared
and a fragment cascaded downward
to shatter along your pleasant chalice.
And in between,
are lines of green
that could have only originated
on pinewood trees
in a forest so dark
that monsters beware.
Bordering a little town
where children played
and only truth was called,
never dare.
Because there is red on your delighted decanter.
Spattered droplets
of coagulated sparks.
Jaded needles saturated,
with pine fresh essence
emanating from your zesty flagon.
And a single spot,
Barren.
Bereft of treasure.
Parted from cerulean.
Robbed of Viridian.
And severed in the roots of a blushing Amaryllis.
Occupying there,
a white blemish,
a shape of infinite corners
immaculately defined
and so small,
you will never find it on the canister
that harbors your smile.
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 11:33 PM UTC
She blooms in the darkest season.
She is the light you crave.
She gives all she has
To be beautiful for you,
To be presentable,
And to be joy in darkness.
She stands in grace,
Trying to fulfill every expectation
Set before her.
But even the amaryllis
In all her beauty,
Soon grows tired
And hunches
And sighs
And dies.
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 12:33 AM UTC
You asked me
"if you were a flower
what would you be?"
I said I'd be a red
Amaryllis
because they bleed
before they die
just as my heart
bled
for each day
you were gone.
© Sia Jane
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 6:24 PM UTC
Amaryllis beauty left hid away
with bleak existence day after day.
Searching for the beauty that filled my dreams;
like golden arched laughs on twinkling sun beams.
I cut the fork in the road, left casually my blood it begins to flow.
Bleeding down into the ground Ive sowed,
wishing now my time was owned.
But as I look down at the past
I begin to see how hope trickles fast.
For In the ground a flower bloomed
blood rose as the rest.
Subtle with its deadly perfume
It's beauty as pink as breast.
For the love it gives with subtle hues
Always remind me of you.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 11:34 AM UTC
Shall I give you a bouquet of flowers,
I'd give you Amaryllis for your splendid beauty
that charmed me in all the right way with insanity
a touch of blue Iris for every faith I put in you
and hope for all my prayers to come true
I'll decorate it with some white Chrysanthemum
for it is truth and loyalty that defines our coliseum
then a Sunflower, a symbol of dedication
of my eternal love and your heart in unison
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 3:59 AM UTC