Iris


The iris beckons
Deep within its velvet folds
Strange but beautiful

Pruned

Her name was Rose
Like the flower,
A wild and rambling girl.
Softest pink, her pale skin,
Hair of tangled nature,
She bloomed for us all;
How she bloomed.
But winter came
With nipping chill;
Our Rose did fade away,
Retreated behind prickly demeanour
Within a bricked vase.
A gardener has her now:
Pruned.

Glowing Through the Rain


 Delicate like a flower
 Slipping out of cracks
 Waiting for the rain clouds
 To splash upon your back
 
 That feeling of becoming
 As concrete splits in twain
 Unable to constrain you
 Before the pouring rain
 
 So stretch your roots in glory
 To link beneath the earth
 And wait for sun to light you
 Then glow for all your worth
 
 
 
 
 
 

Suspended



 
 I found you
 Hanging
 Suspended
 Adrift in a world of your own
 Inanimate
 Yet more alive than anything I’d ever seen
 Such delicate beauty
 Petals to rival a snowflake
 And I wondered
 Should you be there the next time I visited
 Or fallen to the floor
 The fate you had somehow cheated
 Like you
 My thoughts lay
 Suspended