Abloom

I see you seeing me. I know you are a flourishing gift. Do you know what I am? What we could be… (for each other)? You, growing through brick walls and urban filth. Me, knowing what it is to be… (you and me). We are weirds of nature, abloom.

a wild thing—
city grown daisy,
me with you

I see you seeing me, but know not what you are… until you grow deeper in me. You see, a sprouting thing rarely shows its true face. Not before trust takes root. Not before desire grows into more. Never (not ever) before two taste what they could be, abloom.

a fresh leaf
always needs sunlight,
I want you

You see me seeing you. My fingertips reach for your extended hand. My wicked grin matches your knowing smile. We touch. We feel. We tremble. We are, abloom…

touch a bloom,
and feel his wilds spring
as you fall

.
a wee note…
– While keying random thoughts on my phone, I accidentally typed “abloom”. When autocorrect didn’t show its disdain, I flew to the dictionary (I knew the word had to do with blooming, but I wanted specifics). The dictionary said abloom means “in bloom; blossoming; flowering”. I like it… a lot. Naturally, I had to feed it to a poem (or three).
– Linked to dVerse ~ Open Link Night 200

They Say Selfish like It’s a Bad Thing

I’ve been delighting in bees. So when my alarm reminded me *cough, cough, cough* that I was hosting the Weekend Mini-Challenge at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, bees—beautiful, glorious bees—were the first thing that came to mind. So yes, my Wicked Luvs, below is a wee bit of bee poetry.
bee on purple

“They Say Selfish like It’s a Bad Thing”

She flies alone. With lips
and legs covered in kisses
from her home-bloom.

When other flowers call her name,
“Come sit on us. Let us feel your tongue.
Stop flying for you, selfish thing,”

she flies alone. Thinking
of home-pollen sweet coating
her legs and smirking lips.

.
a wee note…

– I’m borrowing a few of Hedgewitch’s words to say that sometimes “poetic lightning [enjoys] striking twice”. She wrote “The Night Bee”, a poem inspired by the same prompt that birthed this one, a few days after I wrote my own contribution—she didn’t read my piece before writing hers. But the poems read like soul-sisters. Hedgewitch is one of the most ethical poets I’ve ever known, so she wanted to remove her piece from her blog. I requested she didn’t. I thought it would be interesting to share one of those moments when two different minds swim in the same creative waters without being aware of each other’s presence. If you have a chance, read “The Night Bee”. It’s freaking yummy.