Flowers
All posts tagged Flowers
Flowers Painted On An IPHONE
Published March 27, 2013 by rlmcdermottAnniversary
Published March 21, 2013 by rlmcdermottthere is a wildness in flowers
that cannot be restrained
green goes to yellow
and what is lost returns
a thousand times a day
coneflowers will not obey
the rules and return as roses
in the middle of a sunny afternoon
melodies remembered
as one song return again
half forgotten half remembered
this is how I feel
where did we meet
so long ago
that I cannot forget
was I young
was I beautiful
was I full of hope
did you turn
around too quickly
leave too suddenly
stay too long
were we lovers
friends
strangers
lingering
in a distant garden
talking of cherry blossoms
the weather
a favorite song
the flowers know their fate
they keep it to themselves
they linger by the roadside
and leave at dawn
I’ve stayed too long
I thought that I would
come again this spring
but death stepped in
and took someone too young
it wasn’t me
I stayed behind
I grieve for him
and this is what I know of life
it’s all we have
the good
the bad
are all the same
we’ll meet again
it is our fate
and like the cherry blossom tree
we’ll shed our memories
to love once more
to speak to strangers
on a sunny day
to smile to pause
and then to walk away
Wildflowers
Published March 21, 2013 by rlmcdermottFlowers Painted On An IPHONE
Published March 13, 2013 by rlmcdermottWriting Poems In Tokyo
Published March 8, 2013 by rlmcdermottcan you find them
laying loose on the ground
letters about color
color about words
words about you
what a fool
I’ve been to think
that language
can save me
that love can fall
from the sky
and make poems
out of glass and steel and concrete
an old man sat beside me on a traffic island
somewhere between Tokyo Station and Ginza
he smiled
I threw a word at him
he caught it in his hat
he knew me for what I was
someone who would always be waiting
Words
Published March 8, 2013 by rlmcdermottI am thinking
a poem can save love
a poem can save a life
I open the book
I close the book
the man across the hall
is crying out blue words
I do not speak his language
knotted words are
tightening in his chest
what keeps the
secret of a heart
a poem
a song
a picture
folded in a well-worn wallet
who are these women
and what do they mean to him
I open the book
I close the book







