A Flower


I know the secret you don’t tell
We see your bloom and love it well
Beauty for all our eyes to see
Deeper within, I can feel thee
More than beauty, look further still
There’s softness there and iron will
Velvety, fragile, but oh for a touch
A stroke of a finger, is that too much?
One, then two, then thinking ends
Just breath and feeling, the softness sends
Taking and giving, yet taking still more
Floating on softness, the feeling you give
Others think pretty, but I know where you live

Original poem by the talented Very Josie.  Yes, I know you aren't into poetry.  Too fucking bad.

Josie

Comments

KenP said…
Oh ye of little faith...

There is a pit in every man
of avarice and greed.
And many a man has fell therein
because of shall need.
Good, righteous, gentle honest men
have in this pitfall fell.
And out of it, each one has made
his own, tormented hell.

(Just not your syrupy, girly, stuff.) LOL

Band of Oak
On the peak of a long green slope
all dressed in crimson's hue.
I saw old, gnarled soldiers there in battle's gaudy cloth.
The troop were old, gaunt, battle-scared
their battle all but lost.

They had fought the battle honestly but lost and got their due.
I wish that I might live like they
then would my epitaph be:
Here. Frail man but mighty oak. Brave, unbowed and free.

(did want you to think I was all negative Nelly)

Haven't written such doggerel in years. Found it mucked with the brain. (See, I have an excuse.)
June 28, 2010 at 2:21 PM
SirFWALGMan said…
I actually had a poem published years ago in some rag book. It felt good as a kid because I did not realize they published like everyone who paid them like twenty bucks. Here is a verse I can remember:

Life and Death,
Side by Side,
The Beginning and End,
Of Life's ride.

Ok. Corny. I liked it though.
June 28, 2010 at 2:41 PM
Josie said…
Well well well - who the hell knew?

Ken, very impressive, especially band of oak.

And Waffles - you really wrote that when you were a KID??? Like younger than 18??? Amazing and deep for someone so young.
June 28, 2010 at 3:11 PM
Wolfshead said…
You're right. Limericks and haiku about as far as I go with poetry.

And what do you mean, when Waffles was a kid?
June 28, 2010 at 5:07 PM
Josie said…
LOL Wolfie, you're right - he's still a kid.
June 28, 2010 at 5:18 PM
crafty said…
This is the only limerick I've ever committed to memory, and only the Flying Spaghetti Monster knows why:

A lesbian once, from Khartoum
Once asked a queer up to her room.
They spent the whole night
In a terrible fight
as to who should do what, and to whom.
June 29, 2010 at 1:17 AM
KenP said…
The only good thing to say about Waffles youth is that we're fortunate the sub specie was one that came in litters.
June 29, 2010 at 5:55 AM
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