Roots #earthday #poetry


discarded daffodil

Despondent

Dressed in tones of sunshine

my yellow bonnet waves

amidst contrast of green fields

we chorus spring today

an errant finger plucks

I cry in silent agony

breaking Printemps connection

separated from celebration

Disappointed with my fragrance

I am flung upon a pile of debris

rubbish clogs my senses

I used to breathe beauty

(now I brave man’s stench)

rising sun

“SKY and EARTH”

Gold lining my sleeve

a small face peeks from earth below

I don’t want to alarm her

deep my thundering bellow

reach and inhale her beauty

jealous of rich soil wrapped about her

I wake each day to his radiant smile

each morning warmth tingles within

I envy the birds that fly so high

near him they almost touch

I want to lay on fluffy clouds at night

to his pocket be pinned

 

longing to feel his breath on my skin

only to turn my face in a smile

Never to caress the one I love

distance that separates more than miles

red rose

At Poets United we are celebrating Earth Day!!!!

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26 thoughts on “Roots #earthday #poetry

  1. Powerful closing lines in the first poem – “I used to breathe beauty, now I brave man’s stench.” And beautiful imagery in the second poem, especially wanting to lie on fluffy clouds at night. Beautiful, Leslie.

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  2. You have outdone yourself today, Ms. Leslie Moondust Writer! The Daffodil’s plaint is so sad to hear–the contrast between being attached to earth and spring vs man’s stench is stark and startling. I am guilty of cutting daffodils and paperwhites for my table but keep them past death and hold the bulbs precious. ANd in the second poem I heard two voices–the sun longing for earth and the earth longing for the sun. A perfect romantic image of endless unrequited love! I supposed a rose betwixt longing for both, but gave up the rose for the larger orbs–Oh these are lovers that will never have enough of each other. Beautiful!

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    • Thanks Susan the first was inspired on a beautiful search for spring that we go on each year. The daffodils are like sunshine. When I saw that someone had picked one and then thrown it into a mud puddle I was hurt. I don’t believe flowers mind sharing their beauty with a house full of admirers – they love being on stage.
      The love story is old as the hills …

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