"sundew" poems
She was crying.
So he approached
to lessen the anguish,
her life has notched
He exchanged her tears
with his cozy smile;
to calm down her nerves
at least for a while.
The language of tears
has always appealed him;
as to the insects,
the sundew's gleam.
Innate was this nature of his
to weep for the poor,
for the women, for the children
and for the downtrodden, to be sure.
But with hollow chauvinism
then, the men ruled the society.
And accounted weeping as a sin
resulting from inferiority.
They disliked the boy
and his uncommon ways
to heal the sufferer,
to their utter dismay.
They called the boy
and asked him to change
his beliefs and ideology
or to be ready to estrange.
The boy couldn't understand
how his actions have been
outrageous in their view
and thus sentenced as a sin.
He stood against them
and let the proposal decline.
He advocated his logic
to those ****** swine.
But their ears were concealed
to even the rumbling thunder.
Intoxicated by masculinity
they committed blunder.
The men enraged
and reached for their knives.
They shouted, they cursed
and skinned him alive.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
Faerie;
With your golden eyes,
your sharp-toothed smile,
the words you spin in gossamer,
in starlight,
in orb-weaver silk.
You compose
a symphony in mycelium:
Each tree an instrument,
each interwoven root
a note in harmony.
Silvertongue, sundew,
you have set a snare with green willow,
a net of blackberry thorns,
baited it with honey.
All around, the evergreen pines,
the winter roses bloom.
A sweet end,
arranged in perfect circles
for you and I alone.
I step, happily, toward your waiting arms—
for with your clever, clever fingers,
oh,
sunflower,
you have
stolen
me
away.
Oct 27, 2019
Oct 27, 2019 at 1:50 AM UTC
It's the last straw, brawling into a strange haul oh yes,
undress my dear page boy in the watercress.
His sundew skin pierce within a honey drop,
rock-hard bridge we blow the hourglass
dynamite up flew too few refuse to shake
the earth, a plane, kamikaze, tooooo late!
He runs, my panting rabbit, fly! I'll come
and put a bullet through you.
Maiden, oh maiden! Maiden of beauty,
Hath you longed to show such folly?
It's always sayonara, but to thee,
blonde beauty, au revoir.
Delicious dear, do spit it into me,
the ignominious cure.
Jul 21, 2025
Jul 21, 2025 at 10:48 AM UTC
The ache of taking a
call, when my
book was burning.
I scramble to warn
the bees, not to
come near the sundew.
Words hide the
sticky floor. Walk prudently
to swap the hunger strike
for bread and wine,
as the fingerprints untangle
the mystery of desires.
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 10:17 PM UTC