Miss Hancock was a sunset.

Miss Hancock was a sunset.
The sunset's beautiful vast variety of color could be recognized by anyone,
but to see its true beauty,
one must get to know the sunset, acquaintance with the profusion of colors blending together,
forming beautiful and delicate shades of yellow, orange, and red,
too bright and too delicate, leaving much too fast.
Past these beautiful shades of yellow, orange and red lies even deeper mixes of color
so tightly fused together to form the richest and most profound colors that meets the eye.
Oh how the smallest swirls of color with the tips just melting in to the next
just turned your heart into melted gold.
Most people would just glance at the sunset,
not considering to just take one special moment
to gaze at a flawless piece of art,
but others,
they can see past the garish colors of yellow, orange and red.
They can see the true beauty behind the skin,
and treasure it, while they still have the chance.

What are they saying?

What are they saying?
A poetic response on "The Sound of the Hollyhocks"

Sitting there, talking to the flowers
Green, Blue, pink,
Dandelions, daisies, hollyhocks
They all tell another story,
but of what?
Is it a gift,
being able to talk to flowers?
Or is it a curse?
A curse to make you seem
mentally issued?
How do they speak?
Melodically?
Soothingly?
or even
demanding?
Flowers can be portrayed
as more than just plants
but as powerful speakers,
like Steve Jobs,
But how would I know?
I can not hear the dandelions, daises and the holly hocks speak,
but I can imagine.
I can imagine the flowers talking to me.

Can you hear the flowers?











http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hollyhocks.JPG

gentlemen your limerick

limerick:

There once was a guilty man Oram

He killed fifteen men in a forum

Knowing he'd be tried,

he committed and died.

But he saved five men in the quorum.

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