The hummers have left with the long sunny days.
Frost settled down and intends to stay.
All that is left of the hummingbirds feeding in my yard
are memories of their daily visits and aeronautic repertoire.
I miss their dancing forms as they move from flower to flower.
I am left with cloudy days that drag out lonely hours.
Filed under POETRY, Uncategorized
The faces of flowers tell stories;
each face a different tale of glory.
None more remarkable than that
of Hibiscus, a woman of hidden depths
born from rough and heavy seeds
in rocky yet fertile soil.
Hibiscus bursts forth bold blooms.
Her color lights up dark rooms.
Held tight and upright to the light.
Suddenly, Sun eases her open
to the brilliance of her display.
She awakens and turns her face,
ready to say what she needs to say.
Such boldness does not last long.
A ballad, no symphony, her song.
Her life is a striding measure,
a dance to her own tune, all day long.
Life is short, no matter how strong.
Some flower cycles are not prolonged.
Still, I treasure each face she creates.
Their smiles hold me in place
and allow me brief moments of grace.
Filed under art work, Uncategorized
Even the flowers wear armor.
They hide their sweetest nectar
deep inside the keep
of their castle,
Behind high walls
surrounded by moats
of thorns and ramparts
of bristles and thistles.
Tender they appear.
But tough they are.
Bending in fierce winds
they survive.
Pass the flowers not bullets.
Flowers are stronger.
They hurt no one.
Their scent perfumes a planet.
Their tender gift of beauty
stirs love and forgiveness.
Even flowers wear armor
to protect themselves.
Filed under POETRY
It is not just the poppy that addicts.
All flowers do to those
who make gardens grow.
Over rocky , stubbled fields
replacing weeds with scented folds
of roses petaled
in circled fashion we all know.
Flowers call our names
even when we know not theirs,
from rows and rows and rows
of nurseried plants shouting aloud
“Take me home. Take me home!”
So many languages flowers speak.
Gardeners yearn to learn them all,
each one part of a diverse melody
which sings a siren’s song.
The garden is a symphony
of chords and rhythms strong
enough to carry feet along
new paths from dawn to dusk
to worlds unknown beyond.
Strong enough to lift up all
who wander through the varied colors,
kissed by bees and butterflies
taking us along on a joyous ride
to the one place for which we long.
A place of unity and uncommon beauty
freed from wilderness, our wildness tamed;
and fear buried beneath the soil
where it belongs.
Like flowers, in gardens we reach for the sun
and welcome the rain to quench our thirst
for freedom, friendship and mirth.
Filed under POETRY
The daffodils and I are fading.
Our tulip friends who bloomed later not far behind.
The bright colors once so gaily waving
in gentle sun now unwind
the cord which seemed to hold back
warmer days and nights; the cord which holds back time.
Clouds continue to place a sack
over Sun’s greater insights of reason and rhyme,
sleeping still too many hours
to bring the garden fully back
to life.
What is it in the soul that yearns
for Spring in Winter and Summer in Spring?
How to live in the moment I’ve yet to learn.
Around and around the seasons I go,
seeking to learn just one more thing.
When I shall stop nobody knows.
Until then I shall dance and sing
among the flowers which in my garden grow.
Filed under POETRY
Is this enough for you,
these coldly dreary days
when dew frost bites
flowers bold enough
to brave the threats
of a winter not quite through?
Snow waits above
the sky’s borders high
and falls with icy rain in tow
to warming earth down below.
Climate knows not
which way to go.
She is confused and changeable,
grief-stricken and unreliable,
searching for freedom
amidst the rubble and dark skies,
bringing tears to those-who-love’s eyes.
This is no Arab Spring
where hope can grow.
This is a tethered Spring
driven along by bullying winds
daring anything to grow
or even survive in Mariupol,
now Finland and Sweden, too.
This is a dark cloud eclipsing the sun
where once democracy could freely run.
Is this enough for you;
or too much to bear a moment longer,
wishing we could be as brave as Ukrainians
and so much stronger ?
Is this enough for you ?
Filed under POETRY
annarino writes 