Forsythia is a flower
Of the family oleaceae.
They’re pretty and they’re yellow
And they make me saeae
“Ooh, look at that forsythia!
“They’re of the order lamiales!”
Then I ask my mother
If she’ll cook me tamales.
Tag Archives: Flowers
Guest Poem From An Anonymous World Leader
There was a, um, a a a flower?
And it has, you know, plants,
And some are yellow and some are blue
But that doesn’t change that they’re green
On their, um, stalks or stems or something.
And when I smell them
Wait, they said don’t say smelling…
Flowers are green and and and thank you good morning!
Filed under Poems
A Sonnet For When Your Vegan Girlfriend Puts You In The Doghouse
How soft the calling of the rose in bloom;
Its rage not diminished by its small size,
For it has seen a man deliver doom
With not a drop, remorseful, from his eyes.
The rose who screams has seen its brothers fall,
Cleft and tied as trinkets for a hot date.
It cries without lungs, giving it its all,
Petals in bloom, show’ring it foes with hate.
Then red and white and pink and gold align
Together in the vengeful rose’s song,
A harmony unheard by humankind
Until they are a dozen voices strong.
Then weep! The florist ends their final day.
Aren’t you relieved I brought you no bouquet?
Filed under Poems
Very Grounded
The loyal tortoise ambles
Through a forest full of brambles
Where once a meadow full of flowers flourished,
Where once the stamens danced
And petals bright entranced
Now a harsher foliage is nourished.
The tortoise tries a bite
Of whatever plant’s in sight
Its mouth enduring savagery and pain
For the aged tortoise knows
That they who seek a rose
Will, in the process, find that thorns they gain.
The tortoise eats its pick
Though much may make it sick
In hopes of finding what it thinks is lost.
The tortoise chews and bleeds
Just to satisfy its needs,
To find its rose regardless of the cost.
Somewhere amid the brush,
In a pocket, dark and hushed,
A seed emerges from the salty soil.
Its leaves taste stale air,
But the seed does not despair
For beauty never grows bereft of toil.
Someday the rose will bloom
And emerge amidst the gloom.
Perhaps the tortoise finds it after all.
Fearless are the plants of old,
Or so another tortoise told
In tales to seeds and to the ones who crawl.
Filed under Poems
The Other Primary Color
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
And yellow’s just like
“Wut dawg? U trippin’ bro?
“Violets are fuckin’ purple,
“And just ’cause I don’t rhyme easily
“Y’all just acting like dandelions and sunflowers and poppies and buttercups and, oh yeah yellow roses, don’t exist?
“Naw dawg, whatever. I’m out.”
Filed under Poems
Nothing Says “Please Don’t Hit Me With The Cleaver Again” Like Flowers
My neighbor has a rose garden
That he’s tended all his life
Which really makes you wonder:
Just how angry is his wife?
Filed under Poems
Meanwhile Someone Is Eating Water And Watching Their IQ Rise
The roses are dead.
The violets are too.
Someone swapped the water
With adhesive glue.
Filed under Poems
Maybe Act More Violet?
Roses are red,
Roses are white,
Roses are yellow and pink.
Your are like a rose
As you have many facets
But, unlike a rose, they all stink.
Filed under Poems
Flowery Thoughts
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Yet a more valuable fact
Is less cited as true:
They’re symbols of waste,
The decay of one’s youth,
Yet one must buy flowers
To prove that you’re couth.
For every blue violet
And red rose you eschew
The longer the doghouse
Shall be fate for you.
So for my fellow rebels
Who see trees but not forests…
When we kill all the lawyers
Let’s also kill florists.
Filed under Poems
Why I Never Got Together With That Cute Girl In Class
What wonder has a flower,
A daisy or a rose,
To the clueless human
As on its way it goes?
A work of nature, beautiful,
Is worth not but a glance
For what interest has a human
In the idle ways of plants?
But a very ugly flower
That can nauseate by sight,
That makes you want to kick a baby,
Draw attention that just might.
So when you see the spiders
Crawling from my bloodshot eyes
I seek your fondness and attention.
‘Twas not that so very wise?
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 