• Making Flowers

  • Jul 16 2024
  • Length: 1 min
  • Podcast

  • Summary

  • Melancholy and reflection are the poet’s friends.

    They leave and come again.

    They are the fertile soil

    That works its way

    Between the toes of his imagination

    And prod and shift the kindling fires

    Of his unknown, unseen, deeply buried passion.

    And, in time, with much wrestling,

    They bring forth the most delicate of flowers,

    Perfect curves and colors

    For the reader’s pastime hours.

    But little does the reader know what strivings,

    And what great waves heave within the soul.

    At times, the poet wonders if he’s been swallowed,

    Buried whole. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

    For so are flowers made

    That sprout and bloom

    Then fade away.


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