"impatiens" poems
I take an early morning walk
and watch the bluest sky
the impatiens and the dark
pink trees
the silence of the birds who
hum in tune with time
I watch the flower boxes
in front of every house
geraniums in red and white
the energy of bees amidst
I string it all together
inside my crowded mind
and **** out all the clutter
to bring in the quiet message
I stop and breathe within
Alone inside my thoughts
I see the day begin
Salvation at it's highest...
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 7:59 AM UTC
In a garden filled with flowers
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Patient like impatiens
You lay, lie
Lac of worry.
The Wisteria hands you here
another idea
‘Forget-Me-Not’ it says.
All the while the Orchids
struggle beneath
to compete;
A heartbeat you notice
as carefully and clear
as the Clematis is.
Under the sun-flowers
you nurture the buttercups
Bluebells
maintain the Marigolds
While through the kitchen window
he washes, watches, waves, wearing his Marigolds.
The Evening primrose shows
through the Iris of our eyes
a Lilac sky
leaning on a golden glow
in the lavender scented air
and you remind yourself
This is your Gardenia.
You made it.
Maintained it.
Arranged it.
Sustained it.
For in this garden filled with timeless flowers
you were the gardener.
and now the gardener must go
so that she, herself,
may grow.
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 6:28 PM UTC
You come and you go,
repetitive dream motions
driving a picture of
your face
into my little mouse heart.
Apparition of sleepless nights,
you smile- drop your bags
on my bedroom floor.
I nursed your broken bones
and kissed your fingertips,
crushing the passage of
time in my small hands
like so many impatiens.
And then came the storm clouds,
and you traveling north-
leaving no trace
of what once was;
only memories
like ashes
dissolving
in the rain.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 12:33 PM UTC
what do you learn but how to close your door when it’s coming
what do you
what do you learn but how to only whisper, never yell
only let them see you when you’re pretty
only let him touch you when you’re cold
since the morning you allowed it I’ve taken full advantage of your loving me
I’ve watered my impatiens with your loving me
I’ve thrown back my gin and tonics with your loving me in mind
and I haven’t paid it forward
I haven’t paid it lateral
I haven’t paid
haven’t paid for anything
and they’re catching up to me
the barkeep thinks I’m new in town
the doorman shakes his head
and the door keeps revolving as he stays obsolete
I keep loving you inside my scarf
and the wind takes it
when february comes
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 1:10 AM UTC
Ludicrously,
I seeketh ones boutique
To put me on mine knees
And beg for satisfactory mercy
Endlessly,
I'm tired
I seeketh desire
Palm shadows dire
In ourn arms I seeketh an artista!
Perilously,
I want to end up in her books
Be her diary loving's of memories
Yet not forgotten!!
Severely,
This vessel's pained
I needeth her gain
A and her liquid to give me fullness
A mirage is all I see!!!
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 12:15 PM UTC
all around me are the same faces
i try my hardest to drown my impatiens
trying the defeat the purpose and get along with those irrelevant cases
nothing better to do but to put my self in the depths of shame
- Vega...
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 3:23 PM UTC
Chloe
by Michael R. Burch
There were skies onyx at night ... moons by day ...
lakes pale as her eyes ... breathless winds
********** tall elms ... she would say
that we'd loved, but some book said we’d sinned.
Soon impatiens too fiery to stay
sagged; the crocus bells drooped, golden-limned;
things of brightness, rinsed out, ran to gray ...
all the light of that world softly dimmed.
Where our feet were inclined, we would stray;
there were paths where dead weeds stood untrimmed,
distant mountains that loomed in our way,
thunder booming down valleys dark-hymned.
What I found, I found lost in her face
while yielding all my virtue to her grace.
Originally published by Romantics Quarterly as “A Dying Fall.” Keywords/Tags: Night, onyx, skies, love, *** sin, thunder, lightning, virtue, grace, moons, lakes, winds, mountains, Chloe
Mar 29, 2020
Mar 29, 2020 at 12:22 AM UTC
I was always weary.
There is an ache
in the spaces inside my bones
that makes me sure
I am only a bird
kept from flight by the
weight
I bear.
My hands and lips are
rough
like his never were
and he called them
beautiful when he held them
but I knew better than to trust anyone
who hadn't felt enough
pain to nurse a callous.
So call me callous
I am
but all too often I wonder
what good
my wisdom did me
in my proud youth.
Trees and vines
with branches wide and winding
are the closest to kin I dared
find when mine were far from sight
and I was always afraid
that meant my
roots
were built for nothing
but standing strong.
But I know better
now
that I've ripped
those delicate things free.
I don't think you'll believe
me
but I swear
I'm closer to a bird
than I've ever been and I'm
further from flight
than I thought
I'd ever be.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 8:14 AM UTC