"unblossomed" poems
She wakes up with a start-
Tacit fear in her eyes.
Another nightmare-but I know
That a hug would suffice.
Holding her in my arms I think
Of the first time I’d held her.
Holding her in my arms I think
It might the last time- I shiver.
This makes her look up
To see if I were fine
And lift the weight of her hand-
Tangled in pipes and wires- and place it in mine.
I hold back the silent tear
And the muffled cry.
Helpless, my girl, how helpless!
I can’t save you whatever may I try.
The sanitised scent makes me
Furious at this unfair game.
This tender age-an unblossomed flower
Plucked by the disease with no name.
I know you feel what I do
Child, as you look through your hair’s net,
Because the last words you utter before sleeping-
“Mama, I don’t wanna go yet.”
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 11:51 PM UTC
clutching at pebbles
thrown hard into sky as birds
bitter yolk of unceasing raindrop
ideals personified, then scattered in leaf
a coarse blending of the soul and what is
scream of forgotten swing alone in sunshine
a fear internalized, an unquenched song of watery despair and silence
pacing, pacing, toward and away from a melody that is
as intangible as balloons whispering to decaying stars
fading into nothingness, brief respite, void of sound, emptiness most
profoundly pierced with kaleidoscopic shards of senses and memory;
with music of blueberries, gleefully dropped
into tinny pails overflowing from wistfulness
with touch of unblossomed rosebuds admired,
unyielding like crabapples moist in calloused palms
with smell of tree, unrepentant and unchanging,
yet gnarled and longing, indistinct, uncertain
with taste of wind, speckled purity of truth elusive,
of realization categorized, of wispy but unrelenting passion
with the image of a hope
etched, recessed, scorned, repressed, grasped, suspended in song
the maybe’s and the why’s
the can’t’s and the shouldn’t’s
the have-to’s and the why’s
then slowly fingers defiantly uncurl from stone, in motion unrefined
and quietly, fervently; quietly, fervently, I begin to sing...
a mottled snapshot of my mind.
Jun 4, 2010
Jun 4, 2010 at 8:40 PM UTC
O tender bud, in cradle green conceal’d,
Thy blush yet sleeps, thy velvet lips are seal’d;
The wanton breeze doth kiss thy leaves in vain,
For thou, sweet maid, dost hide thy fragrant pain.
What secrets lie within thy folded grace?
What summer's sigh yet lingers on thy face?
O bloom not swift — the morn hath just begun,
And love would wait thee, 'neath the patient sun.
Sep 17, 2025
Sep 17, 2025 at 3:32 PM UTC
The leaking beauty such as rebirthed life
And of the muddy earth slowly reclaimed
Persephone’s return, a dance of strife
Returning vividness, again, unmaimed
Escaping the monochromatic cell
By return of green, such luscious pigment
By Flora’s grace and by the Shepherd's bell
Revive events long free of merriment
The songbirds relearn their forgotten tunes
The bees prepare to collect flowered boons
Hibernation ending, returns routine
With warmth radiating, freely flowing
Crawling from thy shallow cave, sunlight seen
Flecked through dewdrops caught in Spider’s sewing
A land of new dawns, forgiving thieves
The fruit yet unblossomed, life is still ripe
The tree naked, still missing its leaves
Coverings absent before the first gripe
The animals hunger to end their fast
Humans hunger to remember the past
Come, serenity destroying pigment
Rend the ebony earth delicately
Spread your lovely, inebriating scent
And thus, set every fashion of life free
Free from that immaculate white prison
Free to frolic in fresh fields, unrestrained
The sun, in more wakefulness, risen
To maintain, nature’s mischievous work reined
In preparation for the coming time
The time of heat, growth, and color sublime
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 9:43 PM UTC
I've been called jealous,
insufferable,
eccentric, forgettable.
I've been high,
loved,
punched, laughed at.
Whether anything I've been
matters much now,
I am,
I will,
I was.
In me the fading pop star
sings again.
Once more after ten silent years.
Still my nervousness is
an unblossomed bouquet.
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 6:16 PM UTC
I try to drown myself in music.
Forget all my sorrows.
Choke down my tears.
Keep my chin up and face my fears.
The posture of a Queen.
But my head is so heavy,
It keeps falling down, starring at the soil beneath my feet.
My hair hides the tears dropping on the unblossomed dandelions on my last walk.
I don't want this to be a farewell,
So I turn up the music til my ears bleed.
But at least I can't hear my own thoughts.
At least I cannot hear the voices in my head, telling me,
I am a disgrace to my family.
That I am not worthy of living
And I can't do anything but be the songless bird in a golden cage.
Yet I do want to scream and yell and curse at the world I was born in.
But instead I put my earphones in
and listen to tunes,
Trying to drown everything in a melody that once had me swoon.
I am trying.
I am trying.
I am trying to walk through fire.
But I still feel it;
How it's biting my skin,
Leaving me bruised.
I am trying to inhale shards of glass;
Yet I can still feel them cutting my throat,
Making me choke
on my own blood.
But all of this goes unnoticed
after the words
"I am okay, just tired"
I am tired!
Wouldn't you be as well?
But don't worry, I am not going to sleep yet.
Maybe later.
Maybe not.
This is not a farewell.
This is my excuse why we can't meet in the evening.
It's because I will be sitting
in a field of Lilies drowning my head in the tunes of once upon a time.
Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 12:56 PM UTC
Hazy purity of morning
Beautiful uncertainty
Of the unblossomed bud of day
Walking down familiar halls
Searching for the face I love;
The clean scent of sanctuary
On freshly showered skin
I smile worth a hundred words
And keep my lips in silence.
Your hand in mine,
Our interlocked arms,
Together, you and I.
And as we go our separate ways
Our days unfolding the innocence
of optimistic morning sun,
we join again
in weary afternoon
The smell of your hair,
The hollow of your shoulder,
The light of my waning day.
And as evening ages, side by side
we sleep in nighttime’s shadows
before the sun awakens the sky
as we rise to the clear of morning.
Jun 13, 2011
Jun 13, 2011 at 1:15 PM UTC
Trapped inside a room
A man sits with her
A man who loved her
A man who held her
A man who caused
She was at a lost
Why'd you leave me?She whispered
Its was for me
He claimed he was a man
A man does not leave love
The sun does not leave a unblossomed flower
You'll heal he says
A father
A man
A son
A human
He is a ghost.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
Day and night
a monstrous stomach
wriggles in his bloated belly
******* up
the unblossomed laughter
******* up
the teardrops that moisten a mother’s heart
******* up
the meager flesh under his wrinkled skin
******* up
the indifference in his eyes
and eventually ******* up
from his open mouth a ghastly cry
which we take for soundless
but is in fact at a pitch
well beyond the limit
of our comprehension
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 3:50 PM UTC
So we found some green pine cones
with black spindles poking out
and a funny, fuzzy fur.
When we pulled apart the scales,
a pungent Christmas smell
wafted from its fruity core.
Speculations ran amok
until we recognized an
unblossomed magnolia
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 12:39 AM UTC