The Frost

Composed 11/7/21
Description: My father passed away unexpectedly in May.

The frost took the flowers last night
Once colorful, vibrant
Gone in an instant
Withered, cold to the touch

Your funeral flowers
Taken, transplanted, and watered with tears
Are untouched
Risen, sheltered by home
Absurdly more abundant
Than any foliage grasping to the ground

A strange
Comforting reminder
That you are now immortal
And more alive than even me

Cornfield Flowers

Composed 4/8/16
Description: For Day 8 of NaPoWriMo (yeah I’m keeping up)! Today’s theme was, you guessed it, flowers.

What are cornfield flowers called?
Many call you pretty weeds
Small, violet blooms that spread
In river roads up once-tilled treads

What are cornfield flowers called?
All I know is that you bring me joy
How often do we pass by purple
Oceans as we’re driving by?

What are cornfield flowers called?
Unknown, unloved, ignored by most
And yet here still you grow,
Dressed in Jesus’ robe

So which death will claim you first
The plow or April snow?

In Vain, Perhaps, I Wait

Composed 4/22/15
Description: For Day 21 of NaPoWriMo.

All I’ve got are roots and stems
Grown in deep though I long to move
A few leaves pop
Practical, survival
There’s a few, small, budding blooms
Yet I fret
Have I watered enough?
Did I even plant in a suitable place?
I try to wait for those buds to bloom
But the frost is coming
So I sigh
And pace
Will I ever see rewards?
Color from the toil of my hands?
I fear the sun will never come
I’ll starve
Or burn

Picking Roses

Composed 3/24/15
Description: A common frustration.

Some pluck time like frozen roses
To set that night at the dinner table
Some prized, some poisoned
Admired, analyzed, later addressed
Preserved or left to die
I wish I could remember to
Stop and take the time
To pluck or rose or lily
Instead of rushing by
Because the table seems so empty
When I come home at night
Like I’ve not lived the whole day
It’s numb, it’s
Gray

Pure Prettiness

Composed 6/30/14
Description: For WDBWP’s poetry prompt Alphabet, in which we were to pick a letter from the alphabet and write a poem in which each word starts with that letter. It was stressed that they could (and likely would be) very silly; however, I ended up writing about something that, I think anyway, is pretty meaningful. In addition, I have been truly impressed with the length of some of these poems… but I thought my short one conveyed my meaning well enough. Hope you enjoy!

Peeking petunias pop
Pruning pride proceeding
Pompous, predominant poppies

Flowers

Composed 10/8/13
Description: Another Lit Arts Mag hopeful.

Born into darkness
A husk of coulds and maybes
With no control over our start
We battle and stretch to gain nourishment
And against all odds we twist
Panting, gasping
Into the light

But that’s not the end
We endure storms, famine, change
One day we bloom
The next we die
Trimmed back, pruned
Tamed

But it’s ripping off the dead parts of us
Though painful and not so pretty
That helps us realize who we are
We finally bloom fully

So while I’m proud of your flowers, dear
Do not let that be all I see
Open up, turn back the seasons
Tell me all your stories