"gerbera" poems
I was down.
And so I decided I needed flowers.
But not roses. Because roses have thorns.
And I am so sensitive lately.
I decided, not mixed flowers.
Because I’m mixed up.
And I need to stabilize.
I decided, not tulips.
Because tulips droop.
I decided,
I need gerbera daisies, bright.
Because gerbera daisies stand upright.
And so I bought some
in a wonderful shade of Fuchsia.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 7:29 PM UTC
you are
friday night dinners and
red lip stained coffee cups
and family photos and skilled
sarcasm and twelve trips to
disney and your love for
avocados and adventure. you
are sunday morning bike rides
and hand written letters and
power outages with candlit ghost
stories and week long sleepovers and
summer dresses and worn out boots
and accident prone vacations and
themed birthday parties and forgetfulness
and gerbera daisies and singing too loudly
and too off key and GOOD mistakes and
better memories
you are constellations and sea glass and colliding galaxies
and sometimes the calander turns
like a lottery and once in a blue moon
you can find a girl with fractured
sapphires in her irises and a heart too
big for her ribcage and a spine as strong
as a lightning bolt
so thank you january twenty sixth,
for michele.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 12:22 AM UTC
we were eleven years old in her childhood room.
she pulled a pink dollhouse from her closet, similar
to the color of my cheeks; i swear i tried my hardest
to hide it from her. the front door **** was
covered in angel tears, or so she called it. i asked her
where our room was and she
pointed to a red and white door.
“this is my hiding spot. i like to imagine during
school that when we run away together, doors just won’t exist.
i don’t want anything opening and closing other than your
mouth when you speak haikus into my veins.”
my heart races around 85mph sometimes but dear, you
had me going 100 and i don’t know whether or not to stop saying the words i am and my sentences aren’t haikus, but rather sonnets now and -
“just open the door, my lovestruck poet, come inside, take off the
door **** and live through me. my favorite flowers
are gerbera daisies, they come in all colors like this house, but
you’ll always be my favorite,” she whispered, afraid of her mother
hearing this midnight confession. her door was pink;
she held a doorknob in her hand.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
I.
I breathed in each toxic
story of relatives
departed or deported
that left you with nothing
but gerbera daisies
next to gravestones.
II.
I tried to diffuse
my scholarly ambitions,
to fill in the blanks
on your applications,
to change your histology
to help you evolve.
III.
My body rejected you.
My alveoli ached
to be free and breathe.
My chordae tendinae
were pulled too taut
and tore.
IV.
I caved into myself
with no other choice
but to detoxify.
*November 13, 2014
10:27:16 PM*
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
WHAT is the color deserted? He hides from the eye catch, over time, blooming orange gerbera, we plant it in the wounded land.
What is the scent of lonely? Blood that does not drip, the sap that does not flow from gerbera stalk wound, when we pick it.
What is the taste of lonely? Leaves fall not brewed, imagined what is dissolved in our cups, which once did not get to the petals gerbera.
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 8:59 AM UTC
I'M LOOKING
FOR WHAT EVERYBODY IS LOOKING FOR
AN OPPORTUNITY
TO BE DEVOTED TO SOMEONE
THROUGH THE CLOUDS AND DRIZZLE
TOGETHER
REFLECTING ONE OF THE SCATTERED BEAMS OF LIGHT
THAT PIERCES THE DARKENED CANOPY
AT THE END OF THE STORM
TO LAY AMONG GERBERA
IN RED, LAVENDER, FUSCIA
AND OTHER COLORS, PAINTED
AN OPPORTUNITY
TO EVOKE NATURES INSPIRATION
SO RARELY MANIFESTED IN THE HUMAN FORM
AWARE OF THE DEVOTION OF ANOTHER
JOYOUS AT HAVING BEEN GIVEN
AN OPPORTUNITY
TO EXPERIENCE THE STREAM
AND TO FLOW IN IT
WITH YOU
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 4:40 PM UTC
sometimes i wrap your
jacket around
my pillow and bury my
face in it before i fall asleep
it smells like summer
in a hot kitchen after
long work shifts
sweaty and spicy
smells like the first night i
put my head on your chest
your arm went around my shoulder
and i could feel my heart
thudding out of my ribs
when you kissed me without warning
i panicked
and the next time you
asked before you
brushed your lips against
my cheek and then i felt
the stars flicker in my bones
i remember the day i
threw flour at you
for no reason
and you didn’t get
mad or anything just
kind of stared at me
the day i stuck a rose
in my teeth
declared myself a princess
and we went to the mall
the day i stole some alstra
from my mother’s yellow pitcher
put them in a tin can
and gave them to you
gerbera daisies
your hand in mine
it’s been a year
and i find myself
falling in love all
over again every week
with your smile
with the dimple
in your right cheek
your laugh
your hands
how good you
are to me
even when i don’t
deserve it
and how i never
know exactly
what you’re thinking up in
that blonde head of yours
of course you’re not
perfect but you’re
the closest **** thing
i’ve ever found to it
and i miss
last summer sometimes
the brand new flutter
in my stomach and
the crashing and
tripping over the side of the
big commercial sink and
into feelings
but i wouldn’t turn
back time for anything
and i hope i
never have to sleep
without you by my side
again after this month
i never wanted an
expensive champagne
twenty four karat
designer tag kind of love
and that’s never what
you wanted to give me
all i wanted
was you
and that’s what
you’ve given me
when i say
“i love you”
you say
“i know you do”
how good it is
to have someone
the safety of home
and adventure of living
to blow a kiss
and know you’ll catch it
to grab your hand
and know you’ll hold it
to love
and to be loved
you’re my
soft place to land
and i’ll be
your right hand
you’re the only
decision i ever made
the only chance
i was willing to take
and heaven forbid something
goes wrong but you’re the only
possible mistake that
i would be happy to make
it takes time
for love to spread
its roots and begin to grow
upwards and bloom
but i’m willing to
wait as long as it’s for you
and it hasn’t been
easy lately
i’ve put a lot
of tears into your
favorite hoodie
been hanging
into you for
dear life
but i have to believe
this won’t last forever
that you and me
are strong enough
i have to
believe in us
Aug 15, 2019
Aug 15, 2019 at 4:23 PM UTC
Function—
where time slows itself amongst the spring petals,
suspended in disbelief, a viscous clarity, a freezing **********
where even physali and gerbera meet their maker.
And, for such, too, do I pray, world orb in hand,
rattling from its industrial chain links,
an inhospitable world, the only one I know.
It is a world
that I would tuck under my collar, the subtlest bump
raising eyebrows amongst all at the orphanage
for fear I was one of the loved, the created,
the different, unlike them:
one night, one mistake, and nine months of regret.
Forme—
I do not know my maker.
I do not know why she made me.
But I'm sure that it wasn't easy,
amidst the blizzard,
in a world not unlike my own,
with nuts and bolts and brains
and all that.
Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 4:15 AM UTC
Gerbera daisy awaits
Her feet tip the bottom of glass.
Transvaal daisy,
With legs oh so lazy,
Hurting her beautiful ***
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 5:45 AM UTC