House of Heart

I will always disappoint you.

My words  are no where near roses,

ink stained and caked with clay

though I have scrubbed them bloody.

My lines overflow with sudden downpours

that I inflate into a monsoon

a swell you can not hold back with

the tenderest of sighs.

Still I expect you to save me from obscurity.

I tell lies lovingly,

each verse a litany of devotion

or a buzzed serendipity.

I will fall in love with the sleeved heart of every poet.

Give me a purpose ,  a  wilting tea rose

or the embryo of a pearl washed ashore.

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38 thoughts on “Poetry and Tea Roses

  1. Holly, I love the stanza around lines overflowing into downpours and eventually sighs. My wife tells me that I need to just listen, not fix things. So, when she is telling me about an overbearing friend, I am to listen, not fix. Keith

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  2. The emotion that I feel in this one is very difficult for me to explain. Powerful, Holly. Your metaphors and paintings with words every time stun me. Thank you! 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

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      1. LOL! 😆. Don’t mind me, I was just muttering incoherently. I’ve gotta stop commenting before my second cup of coffee. Totally loved your poetry this morning. 🥰

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