Blooming Growth

For a friend who is ill, yet she continues to fight on. NB: the bomb is arthritis (for those who may not understand).

Like a florist
I pluck these words.
Rearranging and shaping.
I add bows and frills,
But the truth is still there.
To be heard and read.

From a beautiful garden,
I hear tales of woe.
The wilting buds
I nurse to health.
And watch blossom everyday.
The thorns that sting others,
-And herself-
Slowly dull.
Causing her glory to shine higher still.

Each petal falling
Has another story to tell.
And because she is so rare,
And  unique, her words too
Are unique.
Describing complications
As simplicity:

-- I'm like a bomb, who exploded on itself --

Expressing how the body hurts itself.
When the antibodies
In bullet-proof armour attack.
Each "knight", each self-exploding missile:
Greenfly on my precious.

Dynamite
-- stem.
Gunpowder
-- pollen.
Exploding petrol
-- an imploding petal.
A mine
-- mine.

My flower
Forever growing in spite of herself.
As difficult as it seems,
Nipping problems in the bud.

Forming a Forget-Me-Not
That I shall never.

Reviews

[Val]

Your deeply accurate perception through love is a joy to read. It reaffirms the knowledge that human beings grow and are beautified through suffering. Something that most people find abhorrent but non-the less true.
Great work
Val

[Lady Muck]

noice. clever. skillful. These are words to describe this poem.

[Cdnsurfer]

You are getting really good at this Gillzy. This was very well done. See, with a freer form you're able to express your feelings and cast your images so much deeper. Wow! This is my favourite of your poems so far. Lovely. Send your friend my best wishes. I got goosebumps reading this one! Cheers, my friend. Rob