dandelions

Day 25 ~ I won’t send you flowers

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

I won’t send you flowers.

~

Love poems abound with flowers

denoting lovesick nights

bouquets of restless hours,

or scented petals of delight.

Roses, roses, roses

red, pink and white.

Don’t you have enough by now

Strewn beneath your feet?

As you walk you crush them.

~

I’m tired of your demands.

It’s not what loves about.

There are droughts and floods,

withered buds and broken bowers,

weeds running wild,

(weeds that later rot).

Why should I pick flowers

when I know you’ll watch them wilt?

~

I won’t refresh your vases.

Go and see the garden.

I grow delinquent dandelions

and neroli for neglect

(bitter orange for your lips).

© A.Chakir 2023

At the Water Meadow

/ A. Gouedard / 1 Comment

After three days of sunlight

the May bursts forth,

shining white stars amongst hedgerow leaves.

In the marshlands tall grasses wave feathered plumes of gold and cream,

tender on green silken stems.

The sycamore bedecked in bright green catkin tails sways in a gentle breeze,

a reminder of lambs.

A blackbirds sings atop the cedars outstretched limbs,

a dark silhouette against bright blue sky.

Dandelions with sun-filled faces

spread across suddenly verdant pasture.

The air is filled with the scent of new mown grass,

fresh cut blades scatter at the grey roads side

as I wander home in the falling light.

 

At my door,

one dandelion forces its way upwards

through the red tiles of the doorstep,

spring strong, shining,

a signal that summer comes.

 

Life bursts into bud

quiet fanfare for summer

warmth, wonder, delight.

Love is equally enlightening.