The Flowering Man

Original costume design by artist Maria Bjornson

(Inspired by events written in Susan Kay’s novel Phantom)

The blossoms, so tenderly cared for,

lay in strangers’ hands.

The most handsome were taken away

by scavenging neighbors.

The others were left to wilt and perish.

How the buds flourished

under the care of a somber man,

a man simply trying to forget a boy-

a boy who’d blossomed under another man-

an uncompromising man.

A rigid man with little conception

of how to raise a boy to know a father,

but a man with many sectarian convictions.

And with much knowledge of

torturing a flowering man-

A sorrowful man who’d spent his days

tending the garden.

How he cherished the blooms.

And though their radiance was grand,

they were hardly enough to replace a son.

Crescent

Wrought-iron sentinels
stand side by side,
connected throughout
but for a yawning divide.

Ancient oaks flourish,
their roots grown through cleaves.
The electric rails’ current
moves ‘neath a quilt of leaves.

The archaic and modern
with one another stand
on this soggy crescent-
a sacred and debauched land.

Clouds

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Billowy Billows
White Fluffy Pillows
Puffy or Flat
Misty Zeppelins
Blanketing Overhead

Cumulus's Fluff 
Can Make For Wet Weather
Nebulous's Haze 
Makes Visibility Vexing
Stratus's Layers 
Lay Near to the Earth 
Veteran Sailors
Give Nimbostratus Wide Berth

Cumulonimbus's High Thunderheads
Pay Homage to a Norse God
Whose Lightning Bolts 
Evoke Approbation
And Remaining Outdoors
Requires Grave Consideration

 

Ode to a Microwave

Photo by nirots http://freedigitalphotos.net
Photo by nirots http://freedigitalphotos.net

Ode to a Microwave

Why, oh Microwave,
Is my platter so hot?
My food’s edge is smoldering,
Yet the center is not.
Your micro wave power,
Is impressive indeed.
But fully warmed chowder
Is what my mouth needs.
My fingers are seared
From touching this bowl,
My flesh you left blistered,
And my dinner, left cold.

 

 

Donnell Creppel 2015