The first part was writ a few days ago, intended as a challenge. But after reading the prompt over at Poets United I appended my new gluten-free poem to it.

Write to me then of flowers
Without that word, flower.
Not bloom, bud nor blossom employ,
With words, emotions, ideas you’ll toy
And hopefully Joy embower

What a sultry form
Riotous in colors
Exquisite curves
Enticing to deepening folds
Focused heady intoxicating perfumes
She unfolds, ripening
Precocious of the fruitĀ 
She soon will bear
Worshipped near and far
Ensconced in vases or
Behind garden walls
Admired by birds
Molested by bees
Adored by me’s



I’ll lock myself in a loveless labyrinth
And see if I can find my way back to center
Even if I come to remember the illusion
Will I be able to remember why I’m in it?



We are all nuts
Packed in honey.
Ladyfingers soaked
In tiramisu.
Brushes drenched in
Brightcolored paint
Fish in the ocean of myth



Tapestry presides
The bed like a table set for feast
The rest is disarray

Lamplight Books, clock and phone beside
Drum made from the skin of elk-beast
Watch me where I lay

A small box of a dozen Xmas tree ornament
Made in occupied japan, a chest of gold
No but those disks within pass for it in Murika

Mask which liberates, not hide
Of Love I know the least
Shams, come, teach. stay


Frame of reference

I spoke about this before
But it stands some reflection
Like a many petaled flower
I’ll never get too tired
And I’ll never break the chain
Perched on my seat
I’m all geared up
Nothing I can’t handle, bar none
Outstanding caliber
I’ll not be deraileured
A silent frame
Of reference



Who can parse out that funky dark green
Spinach-too-long-in-the-fridge color
From that awful medicinal taste
or long withstand it’s oblivionic embrace