the life cycle of a rose

On a thorny stalk

wrapped in veiny leaves

heavy with the burden

of viscous dew

for the  love of light her

corolla lifts upright

a broad faced still life

anchored to the earth

she tracks the sun across

an unpredictable sky.

At dusk she combs the air

with  sweetness

retreating  at twilight into

pearly pools of the moon.

 

 

RosePink

Photograph by Heart

Metaphor of Birds

Birds twitter in my ear,
my  begging palm opens
expecting metaphors to flutter
down like fire flies, settle softly
on  my life line.
From here I can see the river Delta,
a dark green tarpaulin stretched over
the hemisphere.  It’s murky  waves
reflect on fleeting clouds.
Suspended here in the boredom of life,
sinking in ruins of  past lovers with out
consolation to soothe them,
what’s left of words is refuse,
A cache of cliche, the bitter rind of orange
gnawed and  tossed away.
Where is my simile of stars?
A metaphor of sea oats,
the delicate wings of melodramatic
birds caged in my throat?
Imprisoned beneath  footprints,
the crumbling leaves of winter
grieving debridement.

 

56aa2-manuel2bg-2bavendano

Artist Unknown

 

Happy Halloween “)

I’m alone and afraid,  my car abandoned along a deserted highway.  I’ve been walking for a while and my feet are raw ,  I am carrying my shoes in my hand.

When he stops and motions  I hurry to his  door.

Searching his face he seems harmless.     Holding out my cell phone I lie.  ” I will be happy to give you lift,  you  need just get inside”.  When I decline he speeds away.

Browsing the news over morning tea my heart pounds and it is hard to breathe. Her  body was found beneath some trees her shoes clutched in her hand