The form chosen this month is the ghazal.
The dead twigs of winter, neglected, burst into flower.
The dull, dawdling child, subjected, bursts into flower.
See the clown with wilted roses wrapped in newspaper;
his tears of blue make buds dejected burst into flower.
Young lovers kiss; they have eloped to camp at the beach.
The one with his tent well erected bursts into flower.
Dance barefoot the jagged stony path; the pilgrims’ way.
Reveal that love, when it’s perfected, bursts into flower.
The young girl, so good, so sweet, so plain, so commonplace,
all innocent and unaffected, bursts into flower.
Grandmother tends her pint-sized patch of barren garden.
It’s watered, watched, and as expected, bursts into flower.
Bruce, despite huge carpet stains, gets rent bond back in full;
he breaks into song! oops! corrected! bursts into flower!
To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.