View Full Version : Poems, buy link and book cover from melange author joanne myers

JoAnne Myers
March 31st, 2013, 06:12 PM
Hello everyone I am back. I ate way too much. I hope you enjoy these two poems from my poetry collection Poems About Life, Love, and Everythig in Between which is availble at
http://www.amazon.com/dp/147837022x (http://www.amazon.com/dp/147837022x)

My holly bush bloomed one wintry day.
At the side of my house, just out of the way.
Where the sun shines bright,
and friends gather on welcoming days.
I hope the cold stays, for my holly knows,
that only in the chill does its berries grow.
They are not fruits for the human race.
Just lovely to look at where they are placed.
With patience I awaited its heavenly bloom.
Sowed of love and water and plenty of room.
I sat and watched with great anticipation.
Knowing that the start of its bloom was the end of its gestation.
The holly bush is one of my favorite plants. Not
only for its peculiar leaves, but because its red berries
bloom in winter.
I think winter plants make the holiday seasons so much
more cheerful.
If flowers talked, what would they say?
Would they be angry at the bugs and weeds in their way?
Would they envy clouds rolling by,
or yearn for the flowing stream, thatís quieter than a sigh?
If flowers walked, where would they go?
To the meadow down the road, to watch a firefly show?
Would they watch the sunset in hues of purple and reds,
and walk hand in hand like young newlyweds?
If flowers heard, how would it be?
Grander then spring all year around,
or louder than screams on a raging battleground?
If flowers laughed, how would it sound?
As squeaky as mice or kittens up a tree,
or as windless nights across the Bering Sea?
If flowers hugged, how would it feel?
Rough and prickly as porcupine quills?
Or as wet and slippery as the fur of a seal?
If flowers cried, what would be the reason?
No room to play, lay or dance,
or for lack of rain or respect from the other plants?
Only Mother Nature knows the answers to it all.
We are here only by chance.
She has us at her whim; in her power,
and in her trance.