mistress of the flowers
The Mistress of the flowers (My Garden)
Rows and rows of flowers I remember
My infant wonder
The petal plunder of daisy chains
all your flowers arranged in the garden
With you, my mistress of the flowers
You showed me pollen fragile
Like dust, like fairy seeds you blow
Like rust she weathered beautiful
Showed me stamen
Taught birds and bees to the full
When dad didn’t
In the haven of this suburban strip
Wrapped arms round dreams
I was the child
In our floral Eden surrounded by brick
The wispy blue sky, sunlight scenes
It was 1976
all Grazed knees and ice creams
and the lying on the grass
summer-bird sunbeams
The colour and canopy of your
shimmer and sheen.
A long time ago.
She asked me never to grow up
For then she must face decline
So tightly held the palms of infants
But could not stop the clock this time
And that sun clock shadow hand
seemed stationary for a while
But like a creeping tide, cruel, stands
Gently passing,
sweeps even the most moistured brow
And through these magical things
I remember you.
I can’t reach you in my asphalt yard
its black and sticky and hard
I ventured out there once
and I cut my foot on a glass shard
The deposit of this drunken city s retard.
Over the wall they throw them
I tried to plant a flower there once….too
It never worked
and it half grew and died
and I thought id killed it
so I sobbed and cried.
In case it had the feelings.
Just like you did
because
Every petal falls in the end
and
My November hands, cold, clutch the distraction of a daffodil
It stems the tears, until I burst and cry
To the tolling bell of a graveyard
Lay the pain,
Time wishes it to die so they say
soft rich soil
cliché and cold clay exposed
A clutch of earth in my shovel palm throwed
your Sun-silk hair calm now, turned white
streaked rainy grey
and that distant garden voice delight
echoes
sways
it wilts
and it fades.
As i lay down this floral tribute
my mistress of the flowers
Rows and rows of flowers I remember
My infant wonder
The petal plunder of daisy chains
all your flowers arranged in the garden
With you, my mistress of the flowers
You showed me pollen fragile
Like dust, like fairy seeds you blow
Like rust she weathered beautiful
Showed me stamen
Taught birds and bees to the full
When dad didn’t
In the haven of this suburban strip
Wrapped arms round dreams
I was the child
In our floral Eden surrounded by brick
The wispy blue sky, sunlight scenes
It was 1976
all Grazed knees and ice creams
and the lying on the grass
summer-bird sunbeams
The colour and canopy of your
shimmer and sheen.
A long time ago.
She asked me never to grow up
For then she must face decline
So tightly held the palms of infants
But could not stop the clock this time
And that sun clock shadow hand
seemed stationary for a while
But like a creeping tide, cruel, stands
Gently passing,
sweeps even the most moistured brow
And through these magical things
I remember you.
I can’t reach you in my asphalt yard
its black and sticky and hard
I ventured out there once
and I cut my foot on a glass shard
The deposit of this drunken city s retard.
Over the wall they throw them
I tried to plant a flower there once….too
It never worked
and it half grew and died
and I thought id killed it
so I sobbed and cried.
In case it had the feelings.
Just like you did
because
Every petal falls in the end
and
My November hands, cold, clutch the distraction of a daffodil
It stems the tears, until I burst and cry
To the tolling bell of a graveyard
Lay the pain,
Time wishes it to die so they say
soft rich soil
cliché and cold clay exposed
A clutch of earth in my shovel palm throwed
your Sun-silk hair calm now, turned white
streaked rainy grey
and that distant garden voice delight
echoes
sways
it wilts
and it fades.
As i lay down this floral tribute
my mistress of the flowers
Francine
Tue 19th May 2009 23:33
Beautiful and sensitive expressions that capture a different side of you...
So many wonderful lines in this that can allude to other things...
'She asked me never to grow up
For then she must face decline
So tightly held the palms of infants
But could not stop the clock this time
And that sun clock shadow hand
seemed stationary for a while
But like a creeping tide, cruel, stands
Gently passing,
sweeps even the most moistured brow
And through these magical things
I remember you.'