Green and Gold Haiku
Melting, unfolding, greeting the new light
I've caught spring fever
I sweat it out all alone
Cursed travelers
April is in my
mistress' face, but May may not
Flower readily
Petite crocus groves
Ye care not for my omens
Simply sprout and be
Hiding your blossoms?
Inconsiderate neighbor
Don't fade too fast now
Two blue blooms scattered
Wildly through city gardens
Only one greets me
Daffodils! Bulblings!
Manitoba's unfriendly
Welcome to wet home
The ocean's rhythm
Crawls under my skin slowly
Ancient lullaby
The sun's heat buzzes
With dermal depth. My eyes sting
But the bright drives through
Impermeable
Battered, bent by brazen winds
Appreciated
Indigo and red
Fuschia melts to softer rose
The Breathless Garden
Washing on the line
Heady lilacs knock me back
Pink legs, burrs, insects
This is Judy's street
She weaves freely like dust motes
Dancing in the sun
The sand slips onward
Powder blue babies peek out
And green bushes swell
About the Creator
Violet P. Davies
Words make me feel fulfilled occasionally.
Keep track of me on Insta @purpleproseandposies
Keep reading
More stories from Violet P. Davies and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Darkest Eclipse
Eclipse of darkness; an entity that creeps in every few decades, to steal the memories of the enlightened ones. These people were called The Chosen Ones. They were extraordinary people, with divine destiny's. They each possessed memories so powerful, that they could change the fabric of existence. The god of death could not have that, so it would alter the universe by creating a being, that was not good, nor evil, but had a duty embedded into its very essence.
By Noted Momentsa day ago in Poets
The Reluctant Reporter
"You can't send me!" "There is no-one else. It's you or no-one, and that is not an option." Ameera looked at the fat paunch and florid face of her boss, a man who lived for the story and the kudos it brought him but who rarely gave consideration to the people behind the drama. When had he become so hard? She reckoned that by the end of the year, he'd be dead, collapsed from a heart attack and she struggled to conjure any sympathy in that moment and instantly felt ashamed at displaying the same lack of compassion that he had.
By Rachel Deeming7 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.