Born of Bud And Blossom

Amongst the thorns so sharp and bristley-bitter
and nestled in the crackley canes and stems so brittle
I sprang from buds clenched tight with fright and gripping
their green possessive cloaks around their high strung hearts
so pink, so red, so soft and velvet fragrant
The sun pried without mercy, without quarter
and his hot fiery fingers plucked and pulled
and deep inside those shrouding shawls veridian
the pulsing surging petals pushed back hard
and cracked the sticky emerald shells of shame
To blossom in the air renewed by wand’ring winds
and sway and dance, be wooed by every chance, to bend
low to the ground and then high straining for the heavens
releasing me, the fragrance strong, unquenchable
of grace and beauty, peace and love and joy.
Yes.  I was born of bud and robust blossom
that fell away and left me hanging here
a kiss upon the cheek of summer memory
a promise in the winter of the spring
a herald of the Love of Heaven’s King.

9 thoughts on “Born of Bud And Blossom

        • So…alas. I am vain enough to find a few of my own personal faves. I do have some poems that I like more than others…each has its own beauty and presence, but some jus seem to snuggle up to my heart rather than curl gently and peacefully at my side.

          The first one is about being a young child and straining desperately to become on the outside who I am on the inside. I love the rhythm and meter of this one…and I worked hard to make it flow the same from line to line. I wanted to somehow convey the feel of the clouds floating by and the wind in the clover and my doggie licking away my tears. The other one at the link is about being young also, and wanting to go back and properly live the childhood I never had.

          The next one is a love poem to my darling, and I like the way that the words sound aloud and imply other words that sound the same…there is an eroticism intended and yet intended in concealed form.

          Another love poem, but not about sensuality or eroticism, but rather about the wonder and awe of a love-journey.

          And last is a poem about longing, about memories and small joys that literally moves me to tears each time I read it…each image in the poem is an experience I lived…I was bowing and scraping to Dylan Thomas as I wrote this one.

          Thank you so much for letting me know that the poems are finding root and living in your heart…that is more precious than sacks of gold.

  1. Oh Charissa,
    This one really speaks to me. The words, the images, and the layers uncovered within a sensual Spring.
    “I sprang from buds clenched tight with fright and gripping”
    I have to find ways to enjoy January and February–walking through the yard and searching for plumps buds on honeysuckle and lilac trees are how I survive.
    Loved this!

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