I Take Pictures Of Flowers
I Take Pictures of Flowers
Who:
For my love, to make her smile
When a purple blossom makes
Me think of her favorite color.
For my Tumblr followers when
I post proof of my wilderness walks.
For my soul, so I might revisit these
Moments of awe and beauty.
For these,
I take pictures of flowers.
What:
A moment caught in my
Binary bug net,
A digital trace of my travels,
A daily commute or intentional stroll.
And along the way,
I take pictures of flowers.
Where:
My cloud storage fills
To the brim, and I deign to
Empty a single pixel.
Yellow, then red warnings of
Limited space,
But still,
I take pictures of flowers
Why:
To preserve what I cannot
Trust myself to remember.
Every detail, every shimmer on
A petal, every ring of color,
Every fold and roll and pleat.
To replace what I cannot have;
With no box or garden or
Sun-exposed pot,
I can only hold onto these beauties
In digital form.
When:
The golden hours escape me,
But they are probably sour grapes,
A cast of yellow hue on a face,
Not meant for leaf or colored bract.
Nay, whenever the feeling hits,
I pull out my device.
No process or plan in mind,
I snap one or two decent photos
And continue on my way.
Moment by moment
I take pictures of flowers.
How:
Only carefully, gently,
Holding the camera as I would
Carry a basket of down.
Motionless, I hold my breath and
Press the button.
My phone, with the help
Of an AI worth my trust,
Or with my moderately expensive
Camera I would like to buy
A macro attachment for.
I know not the specifics of how
My precious ladies make it onto
Film or image, but even so
I take pictures of flowers.
More Posts from J-i-poetry and Others
Writing References: Colours
Black ⚜ Blue ⚜ Brown ⚜ Green ⚜ Grey ⚜ Orange
Pink ⚜ Purple ⚜ Red ⚜ Variegation ⚜ White ⚜ Yellow
Word Alternatives ⚜ Archaic Words ⚜ Dark
Describing Colours ⚜ Word List ⚜ Gold
Symbolisms: Colour Vitamins ⚜ "Magical" Uses
More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs
the lover’s almanac : part one.
the quietude of things, tathev simonyan
We're neither of us angels
I
The crowd of lesser demons gnawing at my thoughts doesn’t come from us –
my mind circles because our moments won’t stand still to be captured.
I only haunt myself when you’re not in reach to remind me I haven’t died.
II
I weave secrets, around you, over you, yet in your presence nothing is hidden,
not even the carelessness of my wishing. You are the pennies winking low in the well,
taunting me. Every past moment of wistfulness for someone I hadn’t met yet arriving
with the grace and fluidity of rain now distils fears to the nightmare of losing this.
III
No angels will save us – still a barter better than any
offered at the crossroads. I’ll love the demons to death.
Desert Cherry Blossom
Under lacey shade and golden rain
Desert cherry blossom trickles
Bright desert light onto a bed of pebbles.
A verdin hops branches, calling all the time
Honeyed warble from blue-green twigs.
Florid sprigs along crooked boughs,
Silken sun-drops flit to the ground.
Bees delight in their bounty,
Bobbing from petals, bringing new life.
Soon, these skirts are traded for
Seeds, their pods forage for locals.
Gifts abound from smooth-barked
Florida, this Parkinsonia blessing
All who alight in and around her
Resplendent wings.
Potent Ponds
Steeping in cool waters
The saffron sun on the
Bowl of the pond.
Taking my vitamins every
Morning, the C in my veins
Mingling with the salt in my eyes.
I ride two buses to my chapel
Of peace, a set of flowing
Waters, unblessed but holy to me.
Pacing the dusty paths of
The preserve, I ponder the
Wild waterbirds, wandering.
The ducks, unburdened by
Prejudice, finding their ways
Along the tiny beaches.
The spice of life, I infuse my days
With the fine herbs of musical
Birdsong and chords of clouds.
Finalizing my day's work,
I board the buses home, busy days
Ahead, but for now, hallowed, heady harmony.
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