"poinsettias" poems
they stained the back deck today (with a hard to match 7 periwinkle)
400 square feet of knotted pine (in a striking rivet sequence)
red ant drivers (who can forget those little ******
caked fir needles & feather cone
bug hologram & cedar moss
graffiti crack & cut joist
wheel rut & pick
pike stain (s)
sow bugs
electric
blower
purple
fueled
washer
missing
foul bits
and two of
its former pins
somewhere near
the erratic 9th stroke the
side kick (and his sloppy dullard)
fell sadly in a cacophony of sick laughter
anxious peckers, poinsettias, grub box, rail stems
lacewings (ladylike in their task), third door down windows
old ergonomic chairs (so highly touted in the checkout isle at Lowes)
all for not, I guess ~ seems they never reviewed the Homestead Manual on Fine Deck Painting ~
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 3:55 PM UTC
When the summer sun is blazing,
I pick daisy after daisy,
I toss them to my elephant
It makes him slightly crazy.
I gather chrysanthemums
When fall is in the air,
I toss them to my elephant
It makes him stand and stare.
I harvest bright poinsettias
In winter ,when it's chilly,
I toss them to the elephant
It makes him sort of silly.
I pluck bouquets of tulips
When they blossom in the spring,
I toss them to my elephant ...
It always makes him sing
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
A hush. A fanfare. It begins
As loved ones huddle close
To the marble hearth.
My grandmother’s eye streams
Bitter cold, she says. So is my granda’s
Gravestone – glinting charcoal, that rises
Through a sea of green. An archipelago
Of poinsettias. Words resonate
Off each little island, every city state
With its own legislature. Have you doused
That water on it yet? Have those roses
Seen the end of their days? Quiet, now
First glorious mystery: the resurrection
Of our Lord Jesus Christ. We power on
Standing firm. Forgiveness. Compassion.
Trust; the chant becomes louder
Closer, closer, we cry. I can see Pilate now
Washing his hands. Closer, closer – even louder
They need to make it through. It all depends on us
To light the way. Where are we? Third? Fourth?
Or even further? The beads shimmer as the frenzy
Grows, a pitch higher. Grant it, Lord
Through your mercy, and yours alone:
Bells toll and toll again, seeking the way
It’s time. Anytime now. With just a little push –
Silence. It is finished. A collective sigh
Done for another year. Did all we could
To save those souls; they’ll make it this time around
I’m sure of it. The crowd swells, swiveling the map
Of the yard, inspecting the atlas to no end.
We don’t stay long. Granny’s cold. She’s satisfied
She’s stood for pretty long.
My mate says we sleep till the time; I hope he’s right
I’d rather they rest than run, stay out of sight.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
Days turn pages
Sinking in the night
Abysmal aromas
Wrinkling skin so light.
Crocheting another blanket
Whimsical notes astir
Falling on the carpet
Bits and pieces of her.
A feudal interruption
White noise begins to blur
Reflections being casted
A comforting allure.
Sons decaying in the sky
Poinsettias set on tomb
Empty syringe on the grass
Dead fetus in the womb.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 1:59 AM UTC
poinsettias and
pine needles and
cranberry spice and
you,
the golden lights reflected in your eyes,
your hand rising to touch my face, and
...nothing
you dissolve back into the pool of my daydreams,
our memories swept downstream in the river of my mind
gone as quick as they came, cold, unforgiving, never mine
Dec 3, 2022
Dec 3, 2022 at 2:01 PM UTC
jesus i hate
christmas readings --
low intonings,
bursts of song,
prayers -- so many
******* prayers ...
all in name of th'
"wonder & mystery"
of christmas,
the birth of
quote-on-quote
holy babe.
nativity story spoken
as
true granite fact
,
heads all nodding..
Caesar Augustus, yes,
the census -- oh good!
... some lady doing a
Mary monologue ...
my own father playing Joseph!
father!
(lumbering Boris Karloff father of Christ)
-- grandmother!!
quit jabbing my shoulder
as i
put pen
to page!
these hands
are not
the hands
of a devotion blinded
christian!
(blasphemous thoughts do i write!) (poems on *******
here is
a woman in white!
(angel?)
very performance art
with that lighting
but
i'm not convinced ...
.
/
advent candles on
the altar ......
when the last is lit will a
heavn'ly chorus
ring out?,
blue flame batonning round
the sanctuary? orderly little halos.
-- grandmother get your
uplifted hands out of my face!
am i doing my part by
holding this candle
& singing hymns? ...
(my arm is being twisted) (i call this penance/comes once a year)
where is my eggnog & ***
a friend / hiding behind some poinsettias ****** good idea)
supplies a fitting finish. garnish for my thoughts:
*"man ...
i want
some
christmas h
anky-
panky. "*
(then:)
**** that
doesn'
t
fit under a
tree..."*
Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 8:59 PM UTC
I saw you bloom in winter,
bright, luminescent, the silk of fresh petals.
And I never bought any gloves, though I said I would;
hands all but frozen,
canvas shoes damp through
in the mud and wet of a french winter on the coast.
But you looked hardly discouraged,
fresh and new under the rain.
You amaze me still.
And I am never prepared anymore:
I left my pocket knife across the ocean
and my hat in a friend's purse in another city.
I wasn't ready to see you
arrayed in all your enthusiasm;
wasn't ready to pick you,
place you next to my bed
and tell you all my midwinter thoughts each morning.
I walked past, left you in the park,
asked myself why I thought you'd opened for me.
I'll think of you at Christmas, and at New Year's,
and there will be others, poinsettias and orchids.
But you showed yourself to me in the park, in that cold rain.
You
you amaze me still.
Apr 11, 2010
Apr 11, 2010 at 2:56 PM UTC
The new year is arriving,
It's the time of Christmas,
The day we all were waiting for,
With jingle bells and tree of X-Mas.
To share pleasure in different forms,
The streets will be filled with lights,
All will relish its bouquet,
In these cold winter nights.
Houses are decorated with garlands,
And are hold up by the alluring poinsettias.
Those luscious pies of pumpkin and apples,
And the Christmas pudding,ornamented with leaves of maples.
It's the time of Festivus ,time of feasting,
With kindness in our hearts,it's time for gift-giving.
Let's sing loud so the world could hear the deepness,
With the season's greetings and a lot of togetherness.
Dec 22, 2020
Dec 22, 2020 at 12:47 AM UTC
There is so much running through my head and it is preventing me from sleeping. Which I suppose is okay since we are 4 days from Christmas and I have yet to do any shopping. The therapist would tell me to stop “indulging” and live up to my responsibilities…(Like anyone ever “mirrored” that for me!) The therapist would probably tell me to stop listening to music that seems to make me feel even more depressed…but here I sit, anyway, head phones on, listening anyway.
But I feel so effing worthless and sad right now. Here I sit in the midst of two Christmas trees, a mantle full of poinsettias and lights, garland strung on the banisters, frosty jingling behind me and I cannot FEEL any of it. And I want to FEEL it right now! I want to feel all the good things in my life…and I can't, which makes me even more frustrated. And the only way to force it is to hit the liquor cabinet (which I have not yet ruled out).
I don't think I intentionally planned it this way but the holidays are usually very busy here...which adds to my stress level as I deal with “family” events. Three birthdays to celebrate as well as the 26th being my 23rd anniversary. And I can't get caught up in it this year! I want to and I can't.
And here I sit thinking how I have been married to a man for 23 years and he does not even know me and I'm wondering how that happened. But the reality is, no one really knows me... He loves who he "thinks" Nita is...but I am not really that person at all. And it's really tiring for me to keep pretending to be her after 23 years.
It's been a long long week…I got caught up in the suburban fantasy...it happens...I have fallen and the past can't be undone.
I messed up...I don't feel well at all tonight...not at all...
...I think it is time to go check out that liquor cabinet...
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 4:48 PM UTC
I’m laying here listening to the cicadas but all I can hear is your voice
I miss you
You were the first boy to ever leave me
I’m watching the raindrops on my window but all I can see is your smile
Is this how I made them feel?
If I did they never said anything the same way I can’t bring myself to tell you how I feel
What would be the point?
What difference would it make?
I’m drinking alcohol to numb my pain but all I can taste are your lips
You threw me away like I’m not even a person
A person who feels, who thinks, who talks, who feels
Completely cut me off, shut me out to never be brought back
Like I was nothing
I’m clutching this pillow for dear life but all I can feel are your hands
I miss you
But you left me
You left me angry
I had to clear my blue throat and admit it to myself that I miss you
I’m inhaling the scent of these joyous poinsettias but all I can really smell is you
I miss you
But you left me
You left me languishing
Now I have to clear my green chest and admit it to myself that I will never have you again
I miss you
But you left me
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC
Taffy pull on a milk jug face. Maybe you are **** maybe I'm a clown learning to dogpaddle. You lifted my car keys using telekinesis, vacuumed the interior. I was sorting scrap for my steel messiah statue when you asked to borrow the last shred of virginity I was saving for my dead fiancee. Sure, start the sounding gun; parquet flooring is embarrassed to touch our bare feet. Yesterday I found out sis was almost given to a family from big white. Mom seemed ashamed that she nearly lost the most beautiful thing she'd ever slapped. Not sure I understood, I was ******* on a soldering iron. I think he'll be nine feet tall, carrying poinsettias and a letter to the local congressman. He might be a she, but I doubt it at this point. A trendy recipe for frozen pumpkin lattes is on the fridge, looking happy about being written. Who put it there? My risk taker with blistered hands, waiting on a client in the sweltering veg room, the microwave desert. This morning you gave my neighbors the copper I was going to use for his hair. It's okay. I think he's a she anyway, and she doesn't look like she cares.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 12:46 PM UTC
A present with the label simply saying "who you used to be" filled with old photographs of you being truly happy
A gift bag filled with letters from your old self begging you to stop trying to fix everything and just live
Boxes upon boxes of videos of you screaming into an empty room asking yourself why the **** you let it get that far
People mailing you Christmas cards filled with their most sincere apologies and condolences addressed to everyone but you
Getting red roses smothered with black paint instead of poinsettias mailed to your door step with a note attached that reads "how could you be so ******* selfish"
Looking into the mirror fixing your makeup for Christmas dinner only to see your mother in the reflection attempting to smear concealer over the smudged mascara on her cheeks while whispering your name
Trying to scrub the red wine stains out of your bedroom floor before realizing its your blood
Attempting to turn down the music or at least change the song just too see a preacher standing over your forever home blessing your soul
Calling 911 and begging them to save you from this building you're trapped in that's engulfed in flames but the other end of the line is nothing but shrieks as the operator recognizes your name from the obituary two weeks ago
C.a.l
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 12:54 AM UTC
(Christmas haikus)
*****
I'm sitting across
an old .eucalyptus tree
leaves are not moving
*****
in...out....so quiet
the hummingbirds are nowhere
curtain lights are still
*****
has time stopped? no way!
Christmas bells rang, lights sparkled
...just two days ago
*****
poinsettias are hushed
Christmas lull seeps into me
...am glad....clock still ticks...
*****
Sally
Copyright December 27, 2017
rrab
Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 4:59 PM UTC
...it's never gone, just silent...blending,
off and on...surfacing
when at ease, or, unwinding
as grown ups....closing, opening palms
while hearing, or sharing words of wisdom...
that smiling carefree soul,
always captured...always held in awe
by colorful arches of rainbows
and swings and seesaws...
drawn to the sandy sea shore
in the spring or summer
while watching big and small kites soar
savoring freedom up in the air------
...floats upon sight of lighted Christmas trees
and red poinsettias...quivers on a cold breeze,
thrilled, when snow falls and it starts to freeze..
a fresh kicking energy within, glows,
it musn't stop....no one needs to know
about this soul...mellowed, yet young... hidden,
but not imprisoned
there're a thousand and one reasons
throughout life's alternating seasons,
the child in you and me,...must live on...
Sally
©Rosalia Rosario A. bayan
January 21, 2019
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 2:13 PM UTC
This had to end at some point,.
Pointed ends of poinsettias,.
Being eaten by a cat,.
That has lost his way in some horrible nightmare before christmas,.
I wanted this to happen more than anything,.
Now i sit and smile with a ****** up knowledge,.
That it was all some game,.
Training me like a lion in a circus,.
That ate the poinsettias when he was freed,.
Leave me be,.
I need to be mentally free,.
I turned into a monster over you,.
I sacrificed my sobriety and mental well-being over you,.
And you laugh on comments,.
And stab me with your impotence,.
Of love and understanding,.
Misleading me like a pack of wolves,.
Running off a cliff,.
Into your self-made ignorant bliss..,.,.,
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 10:41 PM UTC
sooted
candelarias
greeted my Christmas morn
along with the flakes of snow that freely falls---
the ground shivered with me as I
touched your hand
that is as cold
as the asphalt covered
with white that somehow
immitated your lips
so pale 'tis
daffodils replaced the poinsettias
mourners replaced the gifts
tears replaced the smiles
still, we hope you're happy where ever you are
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 11:10 AM UTC
I love you
Even though
My dear,
My dear
I know
It's wrong for both of us
And I'd rather hurt you
Now
Instead of doing
What we
Both of us
Want to
Only to destroy
Destroy
Each other
Down the road
Even so
I can't get you out of my head
I wish
I wish
Things
Were
Different
Different
And that we were different
People
And sometimes
I wish
All we were
Was
Passing
Strangers
On a busy street
Instead of a
Desperate
Almost
And
A hopeful
Maybe
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 2:17 PM UTC
roses are red
violets are blue
romance has died
with my love for you
cornflowers are blue
i've gone brain-dead
everyday i suffer
from existential dread
hydrangeas are pink
i like to eat eggs
i really wanna love
what's in between your legs
daffodils are gold
honeysuckle is white
don't tell your parents
what we did last night
poinsettias are red
my dad is a mister
got drunk last night
and done ****** my sister
sunflowers are yellow
you look like a bee
the only thing we're missing
is the you + me
happy valentine's day
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 12:50 PM UTC
poinsettias in the corners
of the grand staircase
red and white matte petals
lonesome resting
all the while,
snowfall tumbles down
from Heaven’s angels
tossing sparkles into the air
landing on the brows
of swaying strangers
Dec 15, 2022
Dec 15, 2022 at 10:26 PM UTC