Monday, May 4, 2015

La Vie en Rose, Les Fleurs du Mais

The Flaneur rambles on with floromania,
Following Jack Herrer's horticultural legacy,
Indulge yourself, O lovers of magnificent buds

Mary is the Month of May


Approaching purple

Rose show!

The very distinguished flowers
Of the winners' table

Every rose here is a miracle to behold

 A rose is psychedelic, mystical, Surrealist


 Colors that only fleetingly ever exist

A select panel of roses,
We were asked to vote
 For our favorite in the entire show

An absurd task

All of them seemed ideal, 
Bordering on divine,
I voted for this one as soon as many others

Then I was guided to this vortex, 
Winner of the most fragrant rose,
It was so intoxicating that it was almost disorinting
Like the freshest most potent sticky bud of cannbis

   A temporary museum of tender beauty,
Table on the right tie-dyed for the rose-obsessed
Followers of the grateful Dead,
Not difficult to smile all the while,
Lady on the left gave me a chocolate ice cream as I came in,

But now's the time I go out again,
But I fell by again to smell 
An astonishingly fragrance,
Too soft to touch,
But too lovely to leave alone

I just received, Sweetheart,
Your yellow roses
But does it mean
That we're all through?

Les Fleurs du Mais

Rather exquisite flowers may also be found

It is here that His genuine purpleness  occurs,

The Iris surfaces like a wet dream

In May all growing things 
Have they panache on

Oakland really is a distinct land,
A land unto itself,
And often a law unto itself as well

Panoply under a sheltering canopy of palms

The venerable haiku garden of bonzai trees,
Today I pass by

Lingering a moment 
In homage to its notable rock

A quaint man-made pond
Insistent sound of water 
rubbing out the time

Gorgeous orchid-like flower
Perpetually watered by a leaky pipe

Unroll papyrus,
find something to use for ink
I hear myself think

Unidentified flowers abound

Eagerly I dig them 
In three-dimensional sensurround

 The outdoor roses are brilliant and profuse,
To say they smell all  better
Would only be abstruse

Lawn-bowling, apocryphal here no more

Move over Smokey the Bear,
Dusty the Fire Plane
Must face the drastic future,
The trees are still lush and the grass is green,
But our long dry season is yet to begin

3 May 2015

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