"carnations" poems
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
827.3k
I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving
but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.
49k
Come with me, I said, and no one knew
where, or how my pain throbbed,
no carnations or barcaroles for me,
only a wound that love had opened.
I said it again: Come with me, as if I were dying,
and no one saw the moon that bled in my mouth
or the blood that rose into the silence.
O Love, now we can forget the star that has such thorns!
That is why when I heard your voice repeat
Come with me, it was as if you had let loose
the grief, the love, the fury of a cork-trapped wine
the geysers flooding from deep in its vault:
in my mouth I felt the taste of fire again,
of blood and carnations, of rock and scald.
26.1k
I clash into my fabric,
Like it's the waters of a bath.
Behold the ripples from my fingers,
Before I walked upon their path.
Pills are skipping stones,
That land at unsteady feet.
I'm falling, or I'm drowning,
Sleeping with torture underneath.
With Carnations at the bedside,
The yellow won't change my hue.
For their inexplicit meanings,
Are wrapped in dripping blue.
And the taps rung through my head,
Were the bath; now forming puddles.
You asked how I had left,
But you didn't notice the bubbles
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Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 4:31 AM UTC
Cheesy carnations
Her delicate dimples dream
She blushed, and said yes.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
339
I tend my flowers for thee—
Bright Absentee!
My Fuchsia’s Coral Seams
Rip—while the Sower—dreams—
Geraniums—tint—and spot—
Low Daisies—dot—
My Cactus—splits her Beard
To show her throat—
Carnations—tip their spice—
And Bees—pick up—
A Hyacinth—I hid—
Puts out a Ruffled Head—
And odors fall
From flasks—so small—
You marvel how they held—
Globe Roses—break their satin glake—
Upon my Garden floor—
Yet—thou—not there—
I had as lief they bore
No Crimson—more—
Thy flower—be gay—
Her Lord—away!
It ill becometh me—
I’ll dwell in Calyx—Gray—
How modestly—alway—
Thy Daisy—
Draped for thee!
8.2k
The soil recognizes
the vibration of your
soft soul and soft soles
when you walk around
the garden's edge.
Grounds from every corner
of the world hasten
to be underneath your feet.
Twenty dignified, upright,
and humble footsteps
from the lilies
to carnations
and much of the earth
is covered.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
two women
a single
Gemini
of desire
the yin
the yang
betwixt
the known
and unreachable
swinging
on wide
arcs of
extremis
inhabiting
opposite
polar worlds
and all
the spaces
in between
intrepid
sailors
dare hope
to explore
T
the outer
R
the inner
T’s
tiny
name
betrays
a big
robusto
femininity
bombastically
womanly
big *****
jazz *****
perfumed musky
hips and ****
that rock
and those
lips
oh,
those ruby red
Norma Jean lips
I’m puckered
up
begging her
to paste a big
rouge smooch
on my eager lips
press those
bustling bosoms
onto my face
wrap those
arms round me
with a rasperous
hug
shake me
with gyrations
of your gracious
shimmy thang
you wow
the bow
out of this
dog
taking lovers
prisoner
with the
coy blink
of wide
eyes
flashing
lashes
batting
brow
boldly
being
a force
of a
mothers
nature
bearing
and
belting
Bessie’s
*****
blues
to a
howling
crowd
wanting
more
fully
enthralled
bedazzled
enraptured
with quixotic
hypnotics
I'm frozen
solid
hoping to
melt
into the
heat
of your
inviting
fire
R
bespeaks
whispers
from an
inner place
she lines the
lost desires
of a yearning heart
she offers the
softest curves
the delicious touch
the wet presence
of a delicate tongue
limpid fingers
hide shy sly
*******
offering
invitations
to hidden nests
humming the incarnate
dark forest secrets
of bloomed lilacs
and sweet carnations
the voice of poems
dance and flutter
from her mouth
as the lightest
butterfly
wings wayward
onto soft hearts
yearning
seducement
her
kimono
gently parts
at the slightest
suggestion
of a rising
breeze
her songs
invite lovers
to pillowed
chambers
daring
intrepid
men to
risk the
death of
desirous
tempests
I melt
into the
delicate
complexity
of your
fleshy heat
my dear
celestial
twins
the lovely
Gemini
each different
reduce me
in differing ways
to a puddle
of rippling water
reflecting
the glorious
elegance of
wondrous
ambrosial
femininity
Dedicated to
T& R
Music Selection:
Barbra Streisand
Pretty Women
Oakland
4/26/12
jbm
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 10:56 PM UTC
The black snow runs down from the rooftops;
A red finger dips into your brow;
Blue snow flakes sink into the empty room,
They are a lovers’ dying mirrors.
Heavy and torn to pieces the mind muses,
Follows the shadow in the mirror of blue snow flakes,
The cold smile of a deceased harlot.
The evening’s wind weeps in the scent of carnations.
7.4k
Loneliness is like hunting for redwood trees
Their gnarled faces
Gritting teeth
They bite the loveliest poison
Out of all the holes your heart couldn’t fill
Sprout carnations
Sprout dahlias
All crimson petals
Blooming from the places
You wanted to be held
Loneliness is a garden
That no one tends
So you choke on the roots
Your tongue turns green
And little tendrils tickle up your throat
Looks like worms at first
But those come later
Pretty soon you’re planted
And collapsing blood red beautiful
Loneliness kills you sometimes
Turns you into a garden after you go hunting
For redwood trees
And on the brief occasions the light breaks the treetop
It shines on you
Just a few red red flowers
A little girl sees one maybe
She plucks what’s left of you
Places you in a vase
That sits on a kitchen table
Without much sunlight
Loneliness is you in a vase
Trying to be as beautiful as you can
Before your petals fall
And your stalks wilt
For a girl
Who thought you were worth taking home
Long enough to brighten up a kitchen
A few days maybe
That’s all we can hope for
Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 4:10 PM UTC
It has been raining peonies and carnations
since you said "hi"
and I have been walking on
cherry blossom-covered pavement eversince.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
Asylum
In the madhouse
on beds of daggers
we slept like crickets
chirping to ourselves
while they tried their best
to make us cannibals.
The nuns were worse than
lawyers, praying like accordions,
tracking their sins into our soft
wax skulls, wheezing like roosters
when one of us cried, laying the greasy ribs
of Jesus on our plates.
They kept you behind
door number six. I'd go to you
with a stolen key, when the noon
smelled bright as carnations,
when the nights were
more purple than the jacarandas.
You spoke of your father
dead of snakebite,
a clockwork marvel with
his million-dollar suit of skin,
of your mother
with the viper between her lips.
I remember your kiss
astringent with reason
as bitter lemons, and the way
your hair blew back from
your dog-brown eyes like poisonous
smoke from the oleanders.
I thought these things
as beautiful as angels
whispering in the dahlias
when I was lost in the asylum,
when the doctors did all they could
to see that we ate each other
down to the bone.
April 2022
Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 8:54 AM UTC
there are roses,
tulips, daisies,
and carnations forming
a garden between my ribs,
centrically swirling and
bending to take up every space.
and it looks beautiful but
within i cannot breath due
to the suffocation and sweet
poison of the memories
each flower you gave me
bears.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
invisible isotopes
gently rain down
onto the chins
of infants
we whisk
them
away with
soft kisses
tiny
irradiated
dust flakes
float onto
boutonniereless
lapels
we brush them
off with fresh
carnations
Oak leaves
blown from
denuding limbs
by soft puffs of
radioactive
plumes
are shaken
from our
door mats
green grass
sprinkled with
Strontium 90
is mowed
and mixed
into our
compost piles
the pristine
waters
of March
are laced with
uranium
tainted
iodine
it coolly
slakes
our
piqued
thirst
the rouge rose
gilded with
a golden plush
of soft plutonium
is plucked
to adorn late
evening
dinner tables
and exchanged
by sweethearts
as amorous
gestures
of resignation
between
condemned
lovers
Oakland
3/28/11
jbm
Nov 5, 2011
Nov 5, 2011 at 9:27 PM UTC
I just woke up on a train I shouldn't be on
I'm stuck in this seat,
To the left there is no one
To the right, there is just my shadow
How peculiar to have a shadow when there is no sun shining through the train
The windows are tinted and the sky outside is murky
I can see the land around me is barren with no greenery
My legs are starting to ache from sitting so long and I feel a fiery rash spreading on my chest
the pattern is floral, like carnations in bloom
My chest is swelling up to my throat
Something is expanding in my chest, stretching and burning
Something familiar but foreign
And just like that a carnation bursts through me completely disintegrated. In my lap I try to put the pieces together
Stuck in this seat I take out my mirror and look at the hole where the carnation lived
Deep inside, something the size of a petite ruby, little and plump was beating.
Louder and louder I could hear it in my ears,
the swelling is subsiding around my neck but I don't think I'll be free of this chair for a long while
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 12:18 AM UTC
my best inspiration
is you
i look into your deep eyes (always greyblueblack)
and i know
that the red carnations
you gifted to me
meant much more
than i love you
because you've already told me this
countless times.
The red carnations
didn't mean I love you.
The red carnations
meant
You are so beautiful
because
I don't always
hear it
enough.
Oct 3, 2011
Oct 3, 2011 at 3:17 PM UTC
Red and white carnations
Red roses and white lilies
A surprise for me
For me
From you
You're a surprise in yourself
An old-fashioned sap
A sap for me
For me
From you
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 2:12 PM UTC
He gives her a pink carnation
It's the first prom she'll ever attend
She's waited so long for this moment
So she can't wait for it to begin
Her daddy says, "Have her back by midnight"
He says, "Yes sir", as he opens her door
When she sits down, he pulls from the driveway
As the bottle rolls out in the floor
She says, "I didn't think we were drinking"
As he held the bottle to his lips
She says, "Stop it, what are you thinking?"
He says, "Come on just take a couple sips"
She promised her dad that she wouldn't
And she always tried keep her word
The sound of a car horn blowing
Was that last sound that she ever heard
The ran off the road, down the embankment
And Into the side of a tree
She didn't know that he'd already been drinking
And was as drunk as he could possibly be
He gives her a pink carnation
It's the first prom she'll ever attend
She's waited so long for this moment
So she can't wait for it to begin
Apr 15, 2010
Apr 15, 2010 at 3:41 PM UTC
I love pansies & posies,
dandelions & roses,
& poppies do melt my heart.
The lily-of-the-valley
is endearing,
she's so beautiful.
Peonies & veronicas,
carnations & daffodils,
dahlias & tulips,
their colors thrill me,
spill onto my palette.
I extremely enjoy the fine
array of their luscious petals,
the explosiveness of their fragrance,
so delicious & soothing,
almost hypnotic,
they're dreamy,
I could sniff them
forever, taste
their flowery-spirit.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 6:15 AM UTC
She sits there alone
Head in her hands
Crying about the past
Of the hurt inside
She feels so forgotten
He is miles away
Forever being drunk
Lost in a bottle
Never forgiving himself
For what he had done
But there on the window
Long forgotten and neglected
Is a reminder of their love
But now faded and died
A vase of rotting carnations
Copyright Chris Smith 2012
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 6:47 PM UTC
Death leaves us all as ashes;
an eternal void, unfilled: just dust.
Our legacy—of light and earth—
transforms us, each,
to carnations or roses
in a nameless garden.
Sep 24, 2025
Sep 24, 2025 at 8:39 AM UTC
*Tonight the softness of the air
touches my skin gently.
Like once your fingertips did.
The air blooms
with moonlight and Jasmine.
A breeze touches the flowers
one by one
Roses Dahlias Carnations
night stock and Gardenia.
Ahh Gardenia your favorite.
I close my eyes
in my mind my senses
bring you here to me.
You are wearing the gown
that once we were married in.
Your lips so red
and eyes so inviting.
I touch you long flowing hair
I can feel the softness of you
even in my mind.
You reach up and
unfasten the ribbons
that hold it.
it flows like a storm
over my bare chest.
Outside I can hear
the ****** of your laughter
like a sweet night song.
But it is only the
windchimes
that you loved.
bringing me back
to the empty heart
That only you could fill.*
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC