These are the last of Summer’s flowers.
They watch their season go.
They’re leeched of life and struggle
as their colors fade to ‘no.’
Their perfume is not redolent.
Their vibrant petals curl,
turn into brown and sepia,
then plucked by windy swirl.
The icy winds of winter come,
to see them to their end.
And it will die next to its tree,
and lay next to a friend.
Until the springtime breezes block
the grave-cold winter’s eyes,
the last of summer’s flowers bloom,
themselves a worthy prize.
They ring the sea bells in the harbor
for the sailors there.
Now come the dancing village girls
with flowers in their hair.
They look so lovely in the sun,
in gowns of green and blue,
to match the mighty ocean’s blush,
and fetch a husband too.
The people clap and cry and cheer
as toward the waves they go,
A sacrifice of maidens come
to join the men below.
The echoes of the knells ring out
across the dancing waves.
The sailors wait impatiently
beside their silted graves.
The singing of the maidens now goes silent
in the surf,
The curse is spared again for those who stand
on muddy turf.
The only note that’s ringing now,
a lonely seagull’s call.
That binds the briny couples to the stones
beneath the squall.
They ring the seabells in the harbor
for the sailors there.
Now come the drifting village maids
with seaweed in their hair.
On her garden bench she smiles.
In her eyes, no cunning wiles,
only shyness.
Humble, sweet
innocence I will entreat.
Quickly to one knee I go,
hearts beat fast, but time goes slow.
Everyone she knows above,
witness this display of love.
See the ring here,
diamond bright.
Yes, I love you!
Yes, it’s right!
Say you love me too, my dear.
Don’t let my heart dangle here.
Lovingly she takes my hand,
tenderly slips on the band.
Fading now, the vision’s gone.
It’s her grave I’m standing on.
Springtime’s redolent perfumes
always linger
where she blooms.
Flowers for wishes
Flowers for dreams
Flowers for nothing
is all that it seems.
Flowers are falling
from heaven above.
Flowers are given
when one is in love.
Flowers for loneliness
Flowers for tears
Flowers for happiness
driving out fears.
Flowers are falling
in fields green and gold.
Flowers for young children
soon growing old.
Flowers for wishes
from out of the blue,
wishing you’d love me,
if wishes come true.
I come again by the light of a sickle, sickly moon
to an old, cracked and mossy stone. In front of it, a
tarnished vase of long-decayed flowers, liquified
with rot and mold
Cold mist covers me like a tattered prayer shawl,
and the wolves stand still and watch from the pines.
I go down to one knee, and brush the lichen off the letters,
now almost level with the stone.
I sigh, searching my heart for the kernel of it once again,
hoping against hope, knowing it is no longer there,
and just not willing to concede.
Its leaving was painful, and it almost
severed my fingers
as I tried to keep it close.
The pain was so great, I could only beg in silence.
The thought of the looming, yawning chasm
of its absence paralyzed me, and my trembling fingers, unable to
take any more,
released it.
On my first visit here, the memories were like the flowers:
fresh, vibrant, full of color, fragrant with life.
But just as the flowers would make no new petals,
we would make no new memories,
and in time, these I cherished turned to sepia,
now tinged an ashy gray.
You made me feel life was worth living.
You lied.
And yet, still, the letters of your name
can be seen,
and I whisper it to the
black, eternal sky.
“Love.”
I wanted to surprise you
I’m hoping that I did
I had to steal these flowers
because I’m just a kid
You see I had no money
to buy them on my own
because it seems you only
earn money when you’re grown
But still I hope you like them
although I couldn’t pay,
because they mean I like you
and that I’m going away
I wanted to surprise you,
I’m hoping that I did.
I’ll be in jail an hour;
I have to do my bid
You see, the cops are coming
to put me in the jail,
but I’m returning for you,
so be here without fail.
They’re only gonna keep me,
and call my mom and dad.
I hope you like me too though,
‘cuz I’m not really bad.
I wanted to surprise you…
She always loved to wear them
around her raven curls.
I said “That’s too flamboyant;
you’re not like other girls.”
She smiled and said “I like them,
and know you like them too.”
I said “I do. And flowers
look beautiful on you.”
And on the ship she traveled,
that sank into the sea,
the flowers that adorned her
came floating back to me.
She always loved to wear them
around her raven curls.
And now I’ve no desire
for any other girls,
for love had crossed an ocean,
perilous, dark and deep.
And now I see her flowers
bloom only in my sleep.
I see them multicolored
around her raven curls.
She calls on me to save her
as the deep water swirls.
And no, I cannot save her.
But even so I try
before the deep blue claims her.
Before she sinks to die.
She takes the wreath of flowers,
entangled in a curl.
She hands them to me, smiling,
As ocean winds a-twirl.
She always loved to wear them.
I still remember when.
And when I live no longer,
I’ll crown her once again.
She always loved to wear them.
I’ll keep them here until
we walk the sky together.
And she will wear them still.
Beyond Panic 