Flower Truck

For Sunday Muse #46 http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2019/03/the-muse-46.html

 

flower truck

 

Flower Truck
“The Earth laughs in flowers.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

I have a truck full of laughter.
I’m gonna plant it everywhere in my yard.
My neighbors think I am crazy but I don’t care.
I am gonna plant a flower everywhere I had an animal die
and I buried.
I think that will be fitting.
They gave me so much love and laughter in my life,
I can let them know how much I love them still.
Yeppers.
I’m gonna plant the whole damn truck full
and go and get some more.

He Survived

He survived
“What greater gift than the love of a cat?” Charles Dickens

He survived after being thrown away by his person’s heirs
roaming the neighborhood living off stale popcorn and bread thrown out for the birds.
Feral dogs, snow, thirst he fought to live.

I saw him and brought him in and he loved me instantly.
unconditionally through my days of darkness and cancer.
he guarded me and forgave me.

Who would have thought so great a heart would ever stop beating.

Haibun: My Tree

A haibun for the theme of solitude at dVerse. This is in the style of the original haibun created by Basho – not a lot of description and words. Just the experience.

My Tree
“Love the trees until their leaves fall off, then encourage them to try again next year.”
― Chad Sugg

Being alone in a tree is heaven to me. There is one in our woods I climb on a regular basis. I sit there enthroned in his branches watching the clouds, listening to the sounds of woods creatures around me. In any weather I love sitting alone. Sometimes I take my violin and play for the tree. I think he likes it.
birds fly and make nests –
a fox passes at the base –
seasons pass in my tree.

 

Because

For Susie’s prompt at Real Toads – why do you write poetry. This is also for Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub.

Because
When I was 11 T.S. Eliot took my poetic cherry.
I bled buckets of poetry –
I became a nymphopoetrymaniac.
I had to have it.
I didn’t care if it was sweet
or if it was my hands against the wall
being slammed from behind.
I howled I purred I sizzled I was intense.
I like the hands on the wall kind best.
I consider the sweet stunning evocative bs –
to be masturbation.
I like my poetry hot and wild
full of passion.
I write poetry because of rain snow moon grass
because of the taste of words on my tongue.
because of wind birds death life
because of I need it.
because I love it.
because you read.

Hosukai – Great Wave off Kanagawa

Let’s Play Pretend

For Marian’s Prompt at Real Toads about coming out Gay along with a song from Boy Erased.

Let’s Play Pretend
“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”  Oscar Wilde

So this is a poem where we imagine coming out.
We imagine how we would feel.
We pretend we know what it is like.
But those of us who are born
with Straight Priviledge –
can never know.
We relate things about people we know –
Who are Lesbian, Homosexual, Transgender,
Transexual, Bisexual, Gay, Questioning…
We listen to music that is calculated to wring tears
from a stone.
My best friend and sister of my soul
Is A Lesbian.
I know all about her coming out,
Her use of drugs and alcohol.
Hell, I did a lot of those drugs with her myself
and got equally as drunk.
But do I know what it was like for her?
Did I feel the pain of her lover leaving her
and breaking her heart?
No I did not.
I am not going to pretend I do.
I will continue to love her
the sister of my soul
and pray the world treats her
as she deserves.
She is one of the finest people I know.
And we straight people
pretending we know,
pretending we understand,
well, we can keep on pretending.
It makes us appear cool.

Cherry Blossom Snow – sakura no yuki

For Anmol’s prompt over at dVerse – relationships and sensuality.  This is an “extreme” haibun being less that 65 words.  Actually, all haibun need to be short as in the original.  Haibun are true accountings ended with a seasonal haiku. Also posted on Real Toads Tuesday Platform.

Cherry Blossom Snow
“The heart was made to be broken.” Oscar Wilde

He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen, like an ancient Samurai. I fell in love at first sight. I was plain and short yet somehow, he fell in love with me. Long years of intense love and then, he returned to Japan. My heart broke.
cherry blossoms
fell like snow in the spring
caressing my skin goodbye

Garden of White Flowers

The Notes:  A triple Cherita. A cherita tells a story and is written thusly: one line, then two lines, then three lines for a total of six lines. There is no line length, no rhyme, no syllable requirement. This first Cherita is the beginning of a series of poems in my Garden of White Flower Series.  This first section is dedicated to the memory of my dear friend Jeff, a sweet and gentle soul. He committed suicide this past June 18, 2018.  I miss him dreadfully.  I seem to be on a roll here with poems about suicide. I am working on clearing my system of three deaths this past June: my mother and two friends by suicide, all within two weeks of each other.

Garden of White Flowers
“If you are not too long, I will wait here for you, all of my life.” Oscar Wilde

I. Jeff
He loved white flowers in his garden especially bathed in moonlight.

He began his white garden when he interred the ashes of the love of his life,
His lover who died from AIDS thirty five years ago and cremated.

He dug the corner of his yard by hand putting in much sweat equity.
He planted a scented white rose that climbed and then iris bulbs,
Paperwhite narcissus, and wisteria, in the corner with the magnolia tree.

He watered the flowers with his tears and sweat.

Next into the garden he buried his precious Cocker, Duncan –
Rescued from a dog hoarder, abused and starved.

He sat out here often talking to Gabe and Duncan.
He planted more white flowers to breathe their life into him,
He whose loves had all died leaving him alone.

He was sitting in his white garden in the moonlight

When he decided there were enough white lowers, enough memories.
He stroked the petals of the white iris and the white rose

Then went into the house on that beautiful June night.
The next morning he took his cat to the vet to board her for a few days.
He returned home and hung himself, the scents of his garden wafting through the windows.

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