There are worlds
Within the world
Spheres within spheres
Expressions expressing
Fractals in patterns
Again and again
More and more
In the deepening
In the depth
In the giving
In the breadth
In the repetition
Of real realness.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
Collectors these,
Unsteady flyers free
And amiable
In the gathering task
And work
To sip the draught
And honey heart
Of flowers
In their ripeness.
And somehow,
More the summer
For their busy
Singleminded focus
And adherence
To the well heads
Of fragrant,
Floral syrup.
And somehow,
More the flowers
As if fluoresced
In admiring presence,
For they ‘are’
For the bees,
Just
As the bees ‘are’
For the flowers.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Now buddleia’s
Lit fuses
Burn purple
For all
Denomination
Of kind bee
And for any
Which
Nectar’s flower
Is sweet and fragrant
Must
In the gathering need.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
After rain,
A moments solar respite
On the hydrophobic leaves.
Next,
To the light as wingtip air
And figures of flittering,
To the updraft
And the couplet spiralling
As high as love
And the mesmerisation
In mating’s
Centrifugal force.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Because
I’m tender close
And nurturing
Your space
– As if my lover’s touch
Could Encourage
Your flush
To come again
And yet again –
My smiles and kisses
Are returned to me
In flowers festooned
And summoning.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Settles to the sweet
And pollen clad
Heart of the world
Sun bathes
On quivering petal,
Voluptuous ruby shades.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Delicate species:
So light and feathery
In the air
With filamentous thoughts
To touch the breeze
And call from it music
And the swishing
Of sibilant verse:
Its delicate fingers
To the wind’s instrument,
To feel and disperse
And cast its seed-spec progeny.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Dedicated to Emma Bullet https://emmabullet.wordpress.com
Lavender,
In silvery swathes
Of purple spires,
Marks midsummer
With every scented
Brush-past.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
This poem was inspired by a photo by Steven Schwartzman.
https://portraitsofwildflowers.wordpress.com
As if
We needed more proof
Than this
For worldly significance
Of the microcosm
In the macrocosm
And the fractal maps
That return again
And yet again
To the shapes in our eyes.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
Nose first
And all the body
Thrust after it,
For I go
Gladly to the rose’s
Soft flesh,
Plunge myself within
To be enveloped
Wholly in petal silk
And scents of dreams,
Sweet as the loveliest
Material or lovers skin
Impregnated with sunshine,
Fine nectars, oils and essences.
For a moment I am lost,
Dipped as I am
In relaxation
Of all but the only sense in the world:
The pure thing found
In candied whorl
Of the rose’s
Delicate unwind
And fragrant shimmering.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
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