Envy

a poet’s envy
jealous of the summer rose
that dies come Autumn

The Rose Revealed

scarlet slips the rose revealing
that of her she hides away
soft petals inhibitions stealing
her silken garment’s passions stray
perfumed warm her scent is healing
I lose myself in her bouquet.

red the virgin mountain rose
showing thorns to all but me
without resistance, heart exposed
as nectar to the honey bee
intoxicating pollen blows
and shows the air her ecstasy

the daisies open

Noon has come
drawing shadows to their core
and daisies once held in awe
of darkness show their heads
proud to the sun
speckled constellations
each of a thousand stars
yet they tell no fortunes
speak no lies
but are as stars a wonder
under
the midday skies

Irises

pure white irises
unopened before the dawn
praying for the sun

Irish Daisies

bold you are
as bold as brass
not caring
if you hold the grass
to your biting
mockery
for its manicured
green finery
it matters less
to dandelions
that they impress
more flowers finer
held by the world
in much esteem
as these gold spirits
simply seem
to grow and grow
without a thought
the other blooms
In beds to court
as bold as brass
so bold are they
to speckle grass
as gold as day.

In What Flowers

in what fragrant flowers of spring
dwell the scents to draw my muse,
which painted petals will her bring
inside my garden to peruse
the lusty nectar of my thoughts
from which I seek to drench my rhyme
perhaps in hope she’ll my words court
and help them bloom come summertime.

Anemone

oh fragile flower
in your rainfall purity
open for the spring

Red Paeony

spring’s passion hath crafted thee
oh temptress of the Pentecost
let scarlet petals ‘twine with me
’til I am in their velvet lost.

chameli

white flowers bloom
a sensual perfume
scattered on the evening
they tell of passions
lost to time
in my lover’s breathing

Jasmine scented nights
on imagined mountains
reveries formed in the spray
under fragrant fountains

The Crocus

the crocus is no more
its meadow once in saffron’s glow
readies itself for summer
and that season’s ostentations
yet I will miss the crocus blooms
as will the summer too
for expectant spring is past
and all that follows fades too soon