Virgin Tundra
The snow has fallen on my manscape,
where no man's seed's sodded beside.
Away! Observe my youth's escape,
toward solitude's sprouted reside.
These raw emotions are very real and I can see them through your words. It's very brave of you to post them, your most vulnerable feeling. I am glad you're a wonderful person today. Hopefully those past events don't haunt you anymore.
I love your poems! Being a cook, I like the recipe poem very much. The first one is greyt, too! Though I think grey should be the supportive color, not the main color.
Ode to a Mariposa Lily
It’s one of those days,
when the remembrance of a lost photo,
develops into nostalgia,
then the haunting mind hemorrhages
and seeps out phantasmagoria.
If experience is the culmination of time,
and time is something money can’t buy,
does that mean being alive
is priceless moment sublimed?
If I could go back to that pastoral vantage
and oversee the ocean of greenly sameness,
with breeze blowing flowers mostly nameless,
I shall let my mind