I returned home

on Palm Sunday

to find knockout roses

behind my brick mailbox

parading their first blossoms of spring.

I found candytuft

faded to green,

safeguarding scattered sprinkles of white

for me to view one more day.

Fallen pink petals from dogwood trees

fluttered through a whimsical ballet

to entertain me on a ballroom floor

of Kentucky bluegrass.

Dogwoods, azalea, and periwinkle are different.
Something happened 
while I was away,
while I snapped photographs

of starfish captured by the sand

when evening tide

quickly rolled out to sea.


Blossoms opened

as other petals
faded and fell.

Fresh blossoms flowered

and youthful buds now greet the sun.
Did you care that I was gone

in the midst of your glory

to savor other beauties
different joys --
did you even miss me?

The youth

Good toppest lustre of the day
The brave hulk which makes hay
These adherent shining through blames
Our pure ambrosial saints ain't flames

These souls has a new odour today
The young beautiful flash to play
We are the good children of glare
Our colour candytuft shift blur

God's love mends and make the youth
This time and space experience use
The living waters with the future frozen
Our power through the mirror was spoken

Past passion, post move on the song
The uniform dance, listen the flowers wrong
Happiness blossom the rainbow nation
Our fruit bloom the path of fasion

We are blood washing through the rails
Of a sweeping banister. Unfolding tails

I tell you I’ve been feeling
Like my legs might give in
And my heart might give out
And when you write it off
With little concern
I am glad of it.

Like the short-lived sunrise
My window refuses to show balloon,
I pass jarring time that pours
Looking at pictures in accompanied laughter...

Like a candytuft dies
My soul flourished a dancer in tune
To a touching sound that tours
Around an imaged and gaily passed chapter...

the good toppest lustre of the day
the brave hulk which makes hay
These adherent shining  through blames
our pure ambrosial saints not flames

we are the good choldren with glare
our color candytuft shift blur
these souls have a new odour today
the young beautiful flash to play

post passion past move on the song
the uniform dances listen to the flowers wrong
but our fruit bloom the path of fashion
happiness blossom the rainbow nation

we are like blood washing through the rails
of a sweeping banister unfolding tales

The flowers of old,
Blossoming and becoming anew,
The oldest of roses to die and be reborn,
Red, Yellow, Black,
Red: for the love I could only dream of,
Yellow: for the friend I will never see again,
Black: for the family I won't see until Death meets with me.

But yet, here come a person with a new handful of flowers!
The choices, how to pick, and where to start?
From wilted flowers to ambrosia,
For my love is to be rejected by most,
And loved by few.
From the pine to the petunias,
For my self-hope only causes pity from others.
Of which causes anger towards those people.
Candytuft, dead leafs, gloxinia, and orange lilies,
All symbolize my life,
Indifference and Hatred,
Sadness and love at first sight,
All those things put together,
Yet I still try living through all the conflicts.

By,
Jayson Foster