"stenophylla" poems
she is my silene stenophylla
rare, pure, beautiful
underappreciated, unnoticed
humans make me so angry
because they don't see
the wonder in front of them
her soul is delicate
yet withstanding;
the petals of my silene stenophylla
that I could but protect her
yet how
when all I want for her is to bloom
I worry for her future
because the silene stenophylla
is 32,000 years old
and it is all alone
none left of its kind
if I could, I would be her kind
my beautiful flower
but that she could really be mine
lacking that, I would wish she have the world
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 5:41 AM UTC
A flower that last saw the Sun
when Neanderthal was on the run,
scientists have carbon dated
and ,now, successfully cultivated.
No shrinking violet, this plant, I know
bloomed thirty millennium ago.
Just a tick in cosmic time
Its fate with man’s was intertwined.
It was found beneath the permafrost,
a treasure in a squirrels lair.
In cryostorage it remained.
The squirrel forgot that it was there.
Ten Thousand years beneath the plain,
then came the centuries of ice and rain.
The game died out. That same fate befalls
the tribe of the Neanderthal.
Now the flower blooms again-
An ancient beauty born anew-
In those seeds, a living spark,
just don’t expect Jurassic Park.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 10:27 PM UTC