Poetry?

Hm. I’ve been lurking here, there, and everywhere, and
lurving it. I met a deadline with a story that may not have been what was called for, but it was the story I had to write. Do you know that feeling? And otherwise I have been reading and writing this:


May Flowers

I take this road
Almost
Everyday
I know its twists
And turns
Cherry blossoms blink
On distant hillsides
Hope
As the dead of winter recedes
From my memory
Honesty prevails
Deep violet bearded iris sprung
Forthright from the banks
Warm scented Erica looms
Pungent narcissus
Raises its ugly head
Crimson Clover shoots
Dark magenta Judas blossom
On black bark
Pallid lilac wisteria
Humbles
Wild flowers
And expectations
To be assuaged
With summer warmth
Love may never take
This road
Again


Straight piece of flowery poetry right? Nah, it’s a love poem and a sex poem. I don't usually like to put images in readers' minds but keeping in mind that I see, hear, smell, sex everywhere, I thought I might take a moment to give you a little peek at the workings of my poetry.

This road, my life, my loves, have been twisted and turned.

Cherry blossoms blink, there is light, hope in the distance after winter during which I feel dead or worse.

Honesty, is a fuchsia spring wild flower that grows in profusion on the roadside, and something I strive to be with myself and appreciate in others, even if it’s painful.

Deep violet bearded iris sprung, if you picture that image you can imagine what I am thinking of, and it can be of either sex.

Forthright, is a principle I want to uphold in relationships and appreciate in others.

Warm scented Erica, is tree heather which grows on banks above the road and to which I have often alluded in the sense of a sweet musky scented lover hovering.

Pungent narcissus smells like cat piss to me in addition to alluding to the complex.

Crimson clover, is an erect red spear headed flower, imagine that.

Dark magenta Judas blossom, on black bark is a flowering tree, but also a general reference to painful betrayal, nothing specific, just the pain.

The perfumed pallid lilac wisteria always grounds me with its humble soothing sexy beauty.

These spring wild flowers perennially reassure me that all is not lost, that my (too high) expectations may not be met, but that emotional pain will be assuaged, and that summer warmth, which I love, will temper my mood twists and turns, and though that sense of being head over heels in love may never take this road again, at this stage in my life, the flowers come back, the warmth returns.

Summer's coming, there is hope.