"florists" poems
To end up alone
in a tomb of a room
without cigarettes
or wine--
just a lightbulb
and a potbelly,
grayhaired,
and glad to have
the room.
...in the morning
they're out there
making money:
judges, carpenters,
plumbers, doctors,
newsboys, policemen,
barbers, carwashers,
dentists, florists,
waitresses, cooks,
cabdrivers...
and you turn over
to your left side
to get the sun
on your back
and out
of your eyes.
from "All's Normal Here" - 1985
32.8k
Everything thing you are about to read is the whole truth, and nothing but...
she flew
via jet blue,
da coop
decamped urban lands,
leaving poet producing this
piece de (at-the-door poem-de crap) resistance:
Sad mad bad
where I asked?
a mountain in Mexico,
where purpled pink wild flowers decorate,
and the yoga mat is never rolled up
and post pampering included!
harrumph,
and worse,
exclaimed
**NYC got florists
and yogi masters
for hire**
with my sisters,
will commune,
hike by dawn light,
eat veggies day and night
and bone my body
with exercise
**Manhattan got veggies, central parks,
and occasionally a pretty dawn,
bone doctors extraordinaire,
don't you know the best veggies,
grown in Whole Foods in the
Time Warner Center?
go then, leaving poet,
sad mad bad
to salve my soul,
know this!
I am eating
a tuna Swiss melt,
French Fries and ketchup,
Danish made with Danish cheese,
drinking my fatte latte.
This my stress,
so well expressed,
but baby, be advised,
I am doing it,
in our bed!
all day tv watching,
crushed neath an inconsolable need
to do all those spiritual things
of which you disapprove!**
you went down the long hallway
at 6am,
you thot you heard me say,
Leila, you got me on my knees!
what was said but this:
*Save me babe,
from doing as I please!*
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
You said condolences and you mourned
Right from the mess you misunderstood
You entered a bliss zone bumped on a foe
Couldn't believe zebras blinded your eyes.
The cranberries you liked had vanished
The cherries I liked had torn apart
Whoever valuable than a velvet
Is as special as an amethyst.
You brought a ***** and you drank
Right now till the end you're in misery
You met a ballerina asked for the name
Couldn't speak cause that was mystique.
The mug you broke came from a song
The bug I killed came from a demon
Whoever shoot the florists' gun
Is as agressive as an ogre.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 12:48 PM UTC
swirls of pollyfilla
with the texture of halva
and osais, the green stuff
florists stick flowers into,
birds wouldn't nest in it.
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 11:13 AM UTC
If he asks you if you're with someone
Say your mom's waiting in station two
Always give the man your extra change
Chances are that he won't report you
If you ignore them, they'll ignore you
Who cares about some curious kid?
For the first time being thought to be stupid
Might actually play to your advantage
And if anyone dares to ask you how old you are
Say you're old enough to know better than to tell them
Don't talk to anybody, no one will talk to you
You're not going to fall for them again
Be careful not to say a single word
You don't need the strangers' gaze
You know exactly where you're walking to
And you know all one thousand ways
Feel the morning air cool on your skin
Soak it in, you won't walk this way again
Stop by at the florists' shop
Breathe in the flowers' scent
You said you won't stop for anything
But maybe you'd stop for me
You walked in empty-handed
But you walked out with an orchid leaf
And maybe you might try to text me
You've done it eight thousand times
Your pride stops you from saying sorry
But you're hoping I'll read between the lines
And after everything's been done
The sand is beautiful when it's moonlit
Your family's been frantic, where've you been
Shake your head, they wouldn't get it
And maybe when I open my door tonight
I'll find a beautiful orchid leaf
And maybe when I stare out the window tonight
I'll know you're dreaming of me
I'll know you're finally sorry
And I'll know you're dreaming of me
Jan 26, 2021
Jan 26, 2021 at 7:01 AM UTC
poem after poem
at online poetry sites
you find is another love poem
*Oh Susi
your eyes are like fire
and my heart is hot
for your touch*
OK, fair enough
everybody falls in love
and we got to keep the human race pumping
OK, I guess that's good
it keeps the Valentine's Day industry going
and the florists make some money
and if I run an Indian restaurant
you might drop in
to get your baby hot with chilli
and I get some money...
so it's all good...
*Oh Man of my Dreams
I shall love you till eternity
and then forever -
and always I'll wash your dishes*
and then there is the other thing
more disturbing
than a ***** love-sick stalker
that every other person who falls in love
or wants to
(even if nobody wants to in return)
seems filled with a scratching need
to write a love poem
and so you write another love poem -
oh no - not another love poem!
*Oh, when God created
the world
he created you for me
and me for you
and we for we*
OK, if you must inflict it on others
this love poem of yours:
how is it different?
you know -
all loves are the same
but how's your love poem different?
Oct 25, 2010
Oct 25, 2010 at 6:34 PM UTC
*There is no such flower
Where monarchs, butterflies,
Florists, congregate.
Not
One.
None,
But you.*
© 2014 J.S.P.
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 8:51 PM UTC
Ahh Valentine's Day is here,
the florists will bustle,
the suitors will scheme,
especially, purposefully,
to make themselves clean
the worry, the fear, rejection, heart's seared,,
the conquest, the prize, the look in her eyes,
the candies and rings, and many shiny things,
leave them all wanting, with no stability near
I have a romance, too big for this day,
throughout, every moment, never to sway,
that is the romance that I will tell you about,
I long for you, pursue you, do not have a doubt
My eyes are set, on the bride I want
I see her, I lead her, I long, to her, flaunt,
She comes down the aisle, ragged dress, beaten, free
When I look into her heart, it's my Son that I see.
So because of that one thing
I will never her leave.
I put him there, I sustain
a good work, I will complete.
The day I marry her, the inside will be
adorning the bride, her anguish relieved
I will never, not ever, because of her dress,
abandon her, leave her, because she's a mess
So until that day comes, I will tell you this tale,
of my bride who I love, who I will never fail
In the storms, she may hide
in the boats deepest space
but I will walk on water and through glass,
to be by her side.
Aug 19, 2010
Aug 19, 2010 at 2:29 PM UTC
people mill about,
most tourists, some locals,
looking at all the shiny jewelry
and the hand-made palm-frond baskets,
feeling the money in their pockets
and the sun on the back of their necks,
and somewhere else in the world
the president plots a drone strike
on a desolate desert in Asia,
and two Dutch florists make love
after a beautiful anniversary dinner,
and a spider dies silently after falling
under the sandal of a Brazilian child,
and somewhere there is an old rotting
apple left out from the morning meal,
and somewhere a scientist is weeping
with joy at his or her new discovery,
and somewhere there is a boy weeping
at the loss of his first and only love,
and somewhere people make a toast,
and somewhere someone drinks alone,
and somewhere there is a man writing
poetry about a place he just returned
from.
and somewhere there is a day,
and somewhere there is a night,
and somewhere the sun is just setting,
and somewhere the sun is just about
to rise.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 9:29 AM UTC
Roses can be White
Yellow or shades of Pink
But the Red are more expensive
Or so florists like to think
The seeds look very similar
Whenever you plant your borders
But once they show their truer form
It's too late to change your order
Apr 7, 2023
Apr 7, 2023 at 10:51 AM UTC
The day old Eddie Barricade
Departed from this world
The florists turned a busy trade
And handkerchiefs unfurled
The sky was blue and overcast
And the ****** Mary cried
A flock of emus hurried past
The day that Eddie died
The day that Eddie Barricade
Was buried in the ground
Lightning struck a chambermaid
And twirled the girl around
A cow gave birth to a marching band
For seven hours steady
A vicar grew an extra hand
The day they buried Eddie
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 8:34 PM UTC
IV - The Lost Trumpet. (April 2011).
A girl loses her trumpet
and she’s ever so sad.
She can’t find it
but a young boy does.
He searched high and low,
to and fro,
before spotting it
and giving it back.
The girl is delighted,
falls in love straight away.
They marry.
The boy stops a tormenter
from hurting his girl.
Ears bleed.
Then the girl says she is moving on.
The boy doesn’t like this
so tries to win her back;
he locates her and they sleep under stars.
They wake up together.
To be continued?
V - The Moment. (May 2011).
Bus.
Way back to school.
Can’t remember the day.
Talking as usual about the upcoming end.
P says how about doing a simple thing, not too big.
Something like chocolates or flowers, why go over the top?
Flowers, doesn’t everyone do that?
But it’s May, only a month to go.
Flowers it will have to be.
Red and pink.
Great.
VI - The Discussions. (21st/22nd June 2011).
So, are you ready? Here’s how it will go…
I’ll sit the exam, you turn up towards the end.
We’ll meet up in the common room and walk back to my town,
down to the florists, then somehow go back to school
without anybody seeing them all before quarter past one.
No, wait...
Later…
Change of plan, I’ll sit the exam still,
two and a half hours, I know, but anyway, you meet me
in the common room once it’s over, then we’ll go into town
because there’s actually a florists there, didn’t know that earlier,
buy them, make sure no one sees us,
head back to school, all before quarter past one right?
Wait for her to arrive, then you dash off with them,
I relax with a nice brew in class, and right at the end
when she’s getting on the bus I come up to you,
take them, run to her,
give them to her before she goes, mutter what needs to be said
and then it’s over. Maybe a hug, who knows?
This has to work. If it all goes wrong
there’s the envelope from the other month to hand over in its place.
Got that? Good.
She’s bound to ruin it though ain’t she?
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 9:48 AM UTC
All those words on Facebook
All the lines on twitter too
Undying love for someone
It just wasn't to be you
But that isn't such a bad thing
As most of them are frauds
Keeping florists going
And cheap Chinese imports
By Saturday the wifebeater will have forgotten all he wrote
The psychotic wife will be throwing things
Back to the status quo.
So why do people do it, as in spend an arm and a leg?
Valentine's was for strangers, an anonymous way to vent.
If you were right and they knew it the courtship then commenced
If you kept it up you're a stalker and the courts dealt with it
So look forward to pancake day covered in dietary sins
By then the garage flowers will be rotting in the bin.
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 4:52 PM UTC
Sing to the tune of teddy bears picnic
If you go down to the town today your in for a big surprise
If you go down to the town today you wont believe your eyes
For every man that ever there was is ordering flowers today because
Today's the day the media says you have to!
Revenue time for florIsts, with over priced blooms everywhere
Xmas time for florists just pay them they don't care
For tomorrow morning when she wakes up she'll shake her head and think your a nut
And wonder why you ignored her the rest of the year!!!
Giver her a hug a tell her she's great 365 and not just today
And maybe take her for picnic!!!!
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 3:50 AM UTC
The last transmission.
From the porch, tones entangle.
The knot is a loss.
The soft scales break your waters.
The gleam revals the rlin.
To pieice your heart and question why not sooner.
It is trust.
You must follow, you must not stray.
The fable sings of loss.
A brash whimper.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 3:01 PM UTC
work they say
when I'm at
work
writing poems
when I should
hush
please don't tell anyone
except everyone
accept everyone
poets florists carpenters painters plumbers clowns kings
the exiled
breath their warm woes waiting
the day the sun rises on their shoulders.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 11:53 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Cause i've worked in life to get here
whats your story,
And when i wake up i'll see groups of
all these florists
i spilled away my life of different occasions,
Agony in ripples of what i lost,
is patients,
The Lies
make me angry,
to feel so humble,
i sigh,
can you save me,
no more trouble,
surpised
by this wish now,
to feel comfortable,
The Lies
make me angry,
to feel so humble,
in the water
i drown,
thinking of the abyss,
And when i wake up ill be gone before
the kiss,
As i fly thinking about all that has yet to come,
to feel comfortable is done,
we can be as one,
The Lies
make me angry,
to feel so humble,
i sigh,
can you save me,
no more trouble,
surpised
by this wish now,
to feel comfortable,
The Lies
make me angry,
to feel so humble,
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 1:01 AM UTC
ᗩIᑎᕼᗩᖇᗩ ᑕOᑎT.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
Then her eyes falls onto the various tiger lilies,
leopard lilies and the Queen Mother's
favourite of them all, calla lilies.
How each of them fill the air with
perfume-sweet songs! Each flower are near
the manmade pools, and bird baths and
the large stone fountains.
Florists are talking and laughing
as they made several flower arrangements,
each featuring the calla in it's classy glory.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"Lady Ainhara?" she hears the guard snap
her from her thoughts.
"Ah, sorry." Ainhara follows him towards
the Moon-Lily Gate, the circular opening
that Queen Lyn has ordered be created
during her visits to East. The door is
made of iron-bars that are sculpted,
taking the shape of the proud peacock;
another favourite of the Queen Mother,
which the guards open.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"Hold on." Ainhara quickly skips over the stone
paths to one of the florists. "Make a flower
arrangement for the Queen herself. Use all
of her favourites. And...if you can, use lavender.
When you're done, hand it to Esshi... give her
a quill, inkpot and paper. She'll know what to do.
She's currently in the Kitchens."
"Right away, Lady Ainhara," the florist nods.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
'Hopefully this will make our Mistress smile...'
With a smile, Ainhara runs back to the Guard
and exits through the Moon-Lily Gate and
out of the gardens until she comes to the
side entrance of Aurelinaea's grand palace.
'And just in time too!'
Riding into the Royal Courtyard are
many merchants with wagons and
wagons of crates and trunks;
silver Aurelinaean guards riding white
mares beside them.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 11:33 AM UTC
A lot of
things can
happen, when you
walk down, your street,
with the people you see, and greet.
Mrs Love from number 22,
smiled towards me.
I put my head down,
and continued to walk on, eyes on the ground.
Not all people, to greet.
Mr Woodward gave me wave,
I waved back, in a sort of quick way,
then proceeded on my way.
Miss Layton caught my eye,
and would not give it back,
so I stopped for chat,
made sure there would be none of that.
Got to the florists,
sniff a few flowers,
then went back to sleep.
A lot of
things can
happen, when you
walk down your street.
Think this might be on going in my mind!!!
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 4:09 PM UTC
In the middle
of a predicament
picking flowers for you
just because
rows of unusual names
green tubes dipped
with delicate baubles of colour
I’m eyeing up
a volcano of roses
as a fuzzy aroma
tickles my nose
swirls into my mouth
but aren’t roses cliché
aren’t bouquets the go-to gift
for girlfriends
for friends who are girls
I groan at the price
but do it just because
and because the woman said so
I choose a squad of others
so later
when you place them in a glass vase
every time you smell that funny smell
you’ll think of roses
you’ll think of me
and us
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 2:11 PM UTC
My good friend thinks well of me.
I like it when she's around.
She has a heart that's caring,
Love in it there does abound.
There is an immense beauty,
That's found in my good friend's heart;
In my heart from that of hers,
Gently love it does impart.
Florists are known for roses,
And forget-me-nots of blue;
But these flowers can't excel,
My friend's heart that's gold and true.
I must be thought highly of,
My heart is touched by her love.
Dec 7, 2019
Dec 7, 2019 at 6:23 AM UTC
4/28/2013
I'm laying here remembering,
All the things I wanted to do.
And the realization is hitting me,
That those things weren't meant for you.
But still a part of me has those desires,
Those things on my bucket list.
The list of romance before I die,
The one I started after my first kiss.
Simple things like hide and seek,
Playing in the rain at the end of a week.
Or walking through the florists rows,
Stopping to smell every lily and rose.
To sit together in the mall,
Just watching the people, no words at all.
To go to the skate park across town,
Laugh about it when we fall down.
Don't come home till four a.m.
Parents worried, but reassured then.
Smile and nod to admonishment,
But never sorry for such a night spent.
Walks through the park with no reason,
Enjoying the life and leaves of the season.
Play with puppies like they were our own,
To pull you away with a smile and groan.
To wander on through the fair,
Loving everything without a care.
I throw the darts to pop balloons,
And win you a bear like some cartoon.
The late night Skype calls when we part,
Imagining the beating of your heart.
To bring you flowers because I can,
Grin at your suspicions of my plan.
To take you places to see random things,
And to kiss you softly above the springs.
Take you fishing just to watch you tire,
So that we can laze around by the fire.
The arrival of the storm and thunder,
Brings us out to enjoy the wonder.
Under blankets in the back of my truck,
Trying to see where the lightning struck.
And to the lake all summer long,
Singing our newest and favorite song.
The sun gives way to starry skies,
That bring us together like twisty ties.
To show you the loft up in the barn,
Then take a walk around the farm.
When dusk sets we find the hay,
Then watch the stars move as we lay.
These just a few on my fated list,
So many things I cannot describe.
I don't know that I like it now,
So unfulfilled inside.
I really doubt that I will complete,
All but a few of the above.
They all require one improbable thing:
Someone with which to love.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 1:53 AM UTC
light has always had a dutiful role
in taking individual loveliness of nature and making it whole
it slips, spills, swims,
even into our world of a real life sims
light has an ability to take a human to their natural core
in preventing truth to be eclipsed as it was once before
in one’s eyes there is nothing left to hide
soon as light meets them and they collide
light has exposed even the purest pigments
in birth of brown and blue as something of wild figments
glowing windows to redwood forests
or bouquets of forget-me-not flowers from the florists
light has made us susceptible to vulnerability
in stripping away what shields humility
the relationship between what allows sight and light
steadily symbiotic and positively polite
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 9:18 AM UTC