Image by Lariko
Labeled for non-commercial reuse.
Scotch Broom Shrub
In spring, scotch broom yields mille fois yellow blooms.
Breezes caress our trees, leaves swirl and dip.
A heady scent fills the air, sweet perfumes
tempt, beguile, offer memories: your lips
on mine. But you speak only of friendship.
The winds pick up. You shield your face from mine,
hold fast your hat and turn away—a sign
that love is fragile? Hawk flies in place, flails
against late winter storms. Clouds block sunshine.
(I long to yield my being to the gale.)
I was unable to participate in the earlier form challenges at dVerse, so tonight, for Open Link Night, I am attempting a Dizain…not an especially easy form. This is a first draft.
The prompt for Poetic Bloomings, Day 3, was to seek inspiration in Shakespeare’s Midsummer’s Night Dream. Here’s my take:
Yet marked I where the bolt of cupid fell;
it fell upon a little western flower,
before, milk white, now purple with love’s wounds
Midsummer’s Night Dream
Oberon, Act II, Scene I
As flowers turn toward sun, so I to love
that stirs my soul in unexpected ways.
You tease me so with promises not kept,
yet still I hope to share your life someday.
You come to me, then part without a word’
I listen in the darkness as I wait
to catch a glimpse of tenderness, of truth-
fullness to guide me safely to my fate.
In vain this simple flower starts to wilt
for lack of trust on which staunch love is built.