Flowers
Like all things
Unwind from their beginnings
Curved by the spin
Of worlds
And helices underlying.
All the earths children
Are so marked
By coriolous force
And inescapable laws
Holding us snug to our place
In time revolving.
Copyright 2016 Ben Truesdale & Distilledvoice
O world
Myriad
And so various
How refined
Your ideas
Brought to definition
In the womb of you!
How perfect
The journey of a flower
In generations’ wandering
And expression.
How fitted this now
In which the blossoms
Burgeon at the lip
Of times curvature.
How right the polyps
Of your creation,
Now
And forever
In your name.
Copyright 2016 Ben Truesdale & distilledvoice
In contrast:
Utility and the flirtatious
Stand unperturbed
Side by side.
Copyright 2016 Ben Truesdale & Distilledvoice
From the medium
In which the leaf reclines
And absorbs
Warm solar muse,
Pure art
Forms as the perfect
Opening flower
And blessed
Replication of the sun:
A depiction
Of the source
From which
All lives spawn
And irrevocably come.
copyright 2016 Ben Truesdale & Distilledvoice
From the ragged beauty
Of the season,
Genetics speculate
A hope
In rose flower,
Half crippled,
Half pert lip
Of summer love,
Sent to test
The possibility
Of love’s emergence
And early awakening
To the surge of imminent spring.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice
Jasmine,
Brought in from the cold
Stirs sexual
In subtle flowers’
Glowing filaments.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
Like a water droplet
It buds, bulges
And balloons.
But unlike the split
And silver rivulet
Dashed to multiples
The bud
Breaks its silence,
Stands tall
And reveals.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
A chance
Late flower
Matures
Even while
All around
Become wearisome.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
We argue
As to the flower’s
Divine conception
Or arrival through
Random chance.
Yet there it is
Manifest despite our thoughts,
Unarguably apparent
To the miracle
Of our eyes.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
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