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Margaryta Jun 2014
At 5 I was convinced I was
a flower
whose vocation was imitating
their final hysterical
wail
once Winter awoke from its
anorexia.

I pleaded my case with
a botanist
whose seamstress wife consented to stitch
a tutu of Kadupul
flowers,
like a fairy godmother warning of their death at
dawn.

At 16 I finally danced
their goodbye,
petals whisked off as if molted
layers of skin
and only when at the end I stood naked
did the concept of death have
definition.
Robert Smith Oct 2016
I dedicate my heart and give you all my love
For you my sweet are like the flower called Dove
Your distinctive features give off such power
Soft and beautiful like a Lewisia Cozyledon flower
Colorful like a wild Daffodil, giving off a sweet smell
As bright as a Rose Swallow with a head built quite swell
Shaped like a pretty Lily, curved and slender
Lovely as a Buttercup, radiant and tender
Built like a Red Rose, with perfect formation
Giving off exhilarating fragrances that imbues such sensations
Your pedals are firm, and round and thick in all the right places
Silky and smooth, you earn stares from all types of faces
Unique as a Kadupul flower, but thankfully don’t perish at dawn
As rare as a Ghost Orchid, won’t be found in just any old lawn
                  Men and women a like, have wished to re-plant you in their home
But with a little help from God, in my garden bed I have you all alone
I cultivate and regenerate you, giving you nutrients to keep you well
Providing you space to breath and warmth wherever we dwell
My enriched soil is full of caring and understanding of your needs
Keeping you safe from harmful pests and ridding you of weeds
With you by my side, life is a refreshing spring breeze
Enthralled with your beauty, you knock me to my knees
I knew my heart was right, no second-guesses, I was not tricked
That you truly are a rare flower from the first day you were handpicked
Jeanmarie Apr 2021
The world never saw the beauty in his forest green eyes
All they saw were the horrible and cruel lies,
That was spread for the enjoyment of gossip.
People judging and rumors flying
Social media is an angel in disguise

People didn’t see the truth that radiated in his broken smile
Or the never-ending love that continually poured from his heart
All they chose to see were the “revealings” of his troubles

That boy is a good lad
True to himself and isn’t changing for anyone.
He already knows exactly who he is

It’s not his fault that they are all in a fool’s paradise
It’s heartbreaking to see just how deep
It’s getting hard for him to stay afloat
When will the truth be seen?

That boy is one of a kind with a beautiful soul
He’s like a Kadupul with his rare, stellar mind
People are just unfortunately too blind to see it.
Hopefully, people will one day learn to not always trust their beautiful eyes.
A Kadupul is a rare flower :)

— The End —