My poetry rarely contains much symbolism. However, my desire to improve as a poet urged me to pen this little write. (The symbolic meaning of every flower mentioned can be found at the end of the post). The inspiration for this piece comes from Nandita’s “The Root Of Life.”
Garden of Poetry
Strolling through her stunning verses
the aroma of rhymes entices my lungs
as poetic sunflowers generate warmth
and her love blooms in flowery tongues
Her windblown kisses of Baby’s Breath
Are love florets providing a sweet motif
As we exchange our primrose affections
For I am her stem and she my adoring leaf
She will eternally be my sacred lotus
Planted inside the deepest part of me
As I’ve become the photosynthetic sun
‘ever nourishing her garden of poetry
The image reminded me of you N. Eye liner, touch of lip gloss, and of course the flowers in the luxurious black hair.
Sunflowers (adoration, longevity)
Baby’s Breath (purity of heart)
Primrose (eternal love)
Sacred Lotus (In Buddhist symbolism it represents purity of body, speech, & spirit)
Lonely Author Recites Poetry
Something different today. I hope you can successfully view and enjoy. Please, excuse the audio.
The inspiration for this little thing came from a recent Video Chat.
Another Fallen Tear
When we cry together
It feels as if
We have loved forever
If only you
Could feel my fingers
Your moist cheek
My pain won’t hurt so bad
Another fallen tear
My trembling screen
Had to repost. WordPress had trashed this post.
Corazón is heart in Spanish. It is also used to address one’s beloved as “my heart” or the equivalent of our “sweetheart.”
Marisposa means butterfly. But it is the name of the Cuban national flower (pictured below).
Earrings swaying like maracas
As the scent of Mariposas filled the air
My Corazón crooned so lovingly
A Caribbean breeze of lyrics
Blew through my yearning hairs
She ignited a bonfire of passion
With her Spanish lullaby
A hymn that came from up above
As angelic goose bumps danced on my skin
Sashaying to her tender love
My heart were her bongos
Intoxicating words drenched with nourishment
Are more vital than the air I breathe
Corazón whispered loving words to the world
As she serenaded me with her poetry.
Today’s post was inspired by Nandita’s live recitation of Pablo Neruda poetry in Spanish and English. (It was the first time I heard her sexy accent speaking Spanish). Should you wish to hear the poem here is the link.
The White Ginger (Hedychium coronarium) called “Mariposa” in Cuba, is a native flower of India but it has become so common in the island that it has been selected as the national flower.
My Baby has been so swamped with work demands, she actually fell asleep while in video chat with me. She has barely written this week, so I wanted to pen something for her. To set the record straight, I REALLY mean every word. I do. I do.
The Flirting Beach Boy
Have you heard about the lonely Beach Boy
He’s a Casanova and the most horrible flirt
He has enjoyed a woman or two…….or three
Til he earned a reputation for chasing skirts
Now, he wants to change and don a bright halo
“No mas,” to the all of the ladies he wants to yell
It may be too late for him to apply for heaven
Beach Boy has earned reservations in……oh, well
Though he is still a charmer, he wears blinders
And with all the chasing and flirting he’s done
Oh, the terrible Beach Boy is still a lady’s man
But now, he only belongs to N, a special one
For my loving N.
Your words are the sweetest melodies
That echo inside my brain
Your love is a metaphor on a gondola
Flowing through my veins
Let me tell you a little secret. My beautiful Tangled Weeds is asleep right now, but she asks me to prepare breakfast for her everyday (meaning a sweet good morning message). I wanted to start her Sunday with this little surprise so she knows I was thinking and missing her.
Photo credit: You know the drill.
The deep stitches that mark my flesh
Are medals from battles worn with pride
The wounds that line her battered heart
Moisten her breath with tears she’s cried
Me, the lonely beach boy surviving broken love
She, an indigo child tangled, a hand without a glove
It was my role to be the valiant knight
To rescue her from the pain of broken dreams
Bravely fighting off the slings and arrows
I was rescued by the poet in tattered jeans
I normally don’t post on Fridays, but my Poetry Muffin needs to read my words. And her wish is my demand.
Photo credit: Nandita.