Plant Poetry – Poems and Songs about Flowers

Calendula
I hid in your skirts, my face between the folds,
denying the light and clinging, I curled.
“Let go of my dress,
go into the glades, the fields, the whole earth;
explore freely.
Get dirty, get earth under your nails,
get scratched, get burnt, get sticks in your hair,
go through a hedge backwards,
your skin caressed by the sun.
May your lips shape kisses
May your heart shape spirit
May your hands shape love.”

Everlasting

Heart hunter

burns time.

Smoke tendrils

crying tremors

misty stillness

eternal currents.

Papa heaven and mama earth dreamt you.

Light beacons pulsate,

the stars receive your song.

Spaces emerge between halls of consciousness.

Sink further in

drift further in

into the starlight sunlight, heatlight, everlastinglight.

Fennel
The wind is racing and I am facing
what I hope is the last blast out of this cast rigid sense of stone self, moan self, croan before my time self, mutterself, stutterself, grinding sense of doom self.

The wind is racing and I am pacing
what I hear is the true call into this body fluid sense of cell self, float self, present in a time self, listenself, christenself, rolling sense of essence self.

The wind is indeed racing
and blasting self, face, body, stone
into one cast, one egg, one unit of birth.

Senses that have been buffeted,
self that has been garrotted
are swept to the land of forgotten
horizon of distant smudges.
Singing wind exalts in her tidying
her swarming organising efficiency.
Fennel metronome beats in swaying agreement.

Loosen clods of time
embedded within my cells.
Erode my memory of self
with white shark roots that snap through my days.

Storm clouds surrender to the land
in relentless accumulation
of sun in soil
time in terrain,
and us, we cower under mirages of our soul.

Fennel shoots,
our list to do to do,
clatters as loose stones, teeth falling,
tinkling in unmusical clatter.
Our soul lifts, lightly rising,
guilt evaporates.

Iris
A particular blue, of purple hue
A flag to all forgotten
A gesture to excellence
provoking the horizon
to receive.
With tongue unfurled
the truth will out
the lies remembered well.
A balming call
to receive them all
and transcend, blend
forgiveness all about.

Roman Chamomile

A fine rain clings.

Nuances suggest a funnel

a pressure, a zip.

The sun is juiced on the horizon,

the violence of disappearing and appearing;

of time

manifests

when we hold on

to this immense weight.

So let’s let go,

stretch,

flex,

become.

Lavender

Clean bones cry,

a dazzling horizon breathes
the ringing tune of total surrender 
dilating veins and eye.
Rings beam from stillness.

We are submerged together, 
held in blue waters.
Electric pulsations
reveal a beating life.

Rose
In the silence there is space.
In the space there is being.
In the being there is bliss.
Sweet memory of being.
There is
this.
This is.

Rosemary
When I had thought my time had gone
you get me up, move me on
mountain is high, sea is so wide
you cling to the path, waves you ride,
Oh a thousand streams, a thousand paths flow through you.
Through you are the golden rings
through you is the blue sky
through you is the cleansing;
our memory – Rosemary.

When I feel disconnection
trembling fear, hesitation.
remember this; we are, I am
keeping moving onwards up,
Oh a a thousand streams, a thousand paths flow through you.
Through you is the eagle’s gaze
through you comes spaciousness
through you is togetherness;
our memory – Rosemary.