The Bouttonniere and Corsage


I'm walking by a place,

A place that has lost its reason to walk by.

Now I look at it with a somber face and a heavy heart.

I do recall the times i was here,

the joy and cause I had to visit here.

But its not those reasons that make me low.

Not the nostolgiac talks or even the cause of the past that weighs on my soul.

It is the joy of then, and lack of it now that brings me low.

The smiles that were, the smiles that aren't and smiles that could have been

The smiles that could have been.


Now instead I walk falsely,

to make light of what weighs heavy.

To make light of what weighs heavy.

I hold my head a little higher, stand a little straighter,

work a little harder; work a little too hard.

Joke a little more, laugh a little louder and smile,

Smile a little too much.

To make light of what weighs heavy at the place I'm walking by.



Whenever I get close to people

I end up hurting them.

I don’t mean to.

That’s just who I am.


I’m like a rose.

From afar I’m beautiful,

But if you come too close

You’ll get pricked.


Don’t pick me.

I don’t want to leave my thorns in your hand.

You won’t be able to leave

Without getting hurt.


I can’t change the fact

That I’m going to hurt you.

I just hope that once you pick me

The pain will be worth it.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 6/14/17

My Mother's Flowers

Flowers, lots of flowers. My childhood was filled with them. I can still smell the roses all over my house, in every single room and remember my mother waiting for them to bloom. Flowers are for every occasion, she used to say. As she put together flower arrangements for Valentine’s day. My sister and I were like her assistants. She taught us how to treat flowers, how to paint flowers and how to name flowers. She even taught us what every flower means. An iris represents inspiration and a poppy represents consolation. A Magnolia represents dignity and red and white roses together represent unity. Knowing all this, makes it impossible for my mother to see a flower as a simple flower. Sometimes she said that flowers were like a language, a way of expression. And the more time we spent around flowers I came to understand what she meant. There’s so much that can be said with a white rose, a red tulip or a black orchid. Every time you can’t find the right words to say to someone give them flowers, she always said. Every week we went to huge flower storages. There were roses, lilies, tulips and some others with such exotic names that my sister and I turned the naming of flowers into a game. I always described those storages as beautiful, fresh and colorful places, but without the flowers those storages where nothing but big, grey and very cold places. When she needed help, my mother used to take us to church to help her arrange the whole place with flowers hours before a wedding started or for a memorial for someone who recently parted. Now I understand that every flower has a meaning and that every single type of flower comes with a feeling. As flowers can make you feel happiness when you receive them from someone who you love, they can also make you feel sadness and grief as you deliver them to someone who soon leaves. Flowers made my mother very happy for a long time and always made my house look nice. Then the sad day came along, when she had to close her flower shop. Even though they are not useful anymore we still have piles of flower books laying on the floor. And when someone brings flowers to my house my mother always enjoys naming them all, especially the ones with exotic names.

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My grandmother’s garden”

Every year when spring arrives, it reminds me of my grandmother, I can swear that I smell her garden, full of flowers, full of life, full of daisies and tulips that filled the atmosphere with color, joy and happiness. I had the best moments of my life there, lying down in the grass, as time didn’t pass, as anything else in the world didn’t matter as if it was only the two of us in that magnificent kingdom. I don’t usually believe in magic, but there was something magical in that place, it was the cure for every problem you had, all you needed was to spend a few minutes there, breath deeply and after a few seconds you will feel happy again. Spring and summer were the best seasons of the year, you could spend the whole day sitting in the wood bench and never feel bored as every hour you had a different view, a different feeling, in the morning the breeze falling into your skin, in the noon all the hummingbirds and butterflies flying around the flowers, in the night you had the perfect view of the stars shining in the sky and if you were lucky you could also watch the moon. It was really impressive to watch my grandma take care of her flowers, she always played music in her garden as she believed that music improved their growing process, she treated every petal as an individual rather than as a flower and threated every flower differently as every one had its own care instructions. She liked flowers so much that one day she decided to cut a small flower from her garden to put it in a necklace, at first I thought she was mad, but after watching the result I learned that she always knew what she is doing. She took the flower to a store in which they put it inside some liquid plastic and after that into a golden medal, it was beautiful. I thought that she was going to wear it, but instead to my surprise she gave it to me on my 16th birthday. Now every time I wear that necklace I can still feel that magical vibe that her garden had, I can still smell every single flower, I can feel the breeze falling into my skin and remember every single day we spent in that garden.

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Lovers Field

My Everything

A field before my feet.

The smell of wild flowers; my nose to steep.

Stems adorned with color, glimmering in the exhausted sun.

Waltzing amongst my fingertips; legs eager to run.

There's a shadow near the woods.

Quite a distance, from where I stood.

Gliding, like I sprouted graceful wings.

Twirling winds; in my ears do ring.

A pure familar fragrance, lingering in the air to find.

Something sweet on lips, I've somehow left behind.

The silence of the woods, hum in mysterious concern.

There you stood, a fire in me to burn.

Blossoming in daring flames.

Two souls, a mirror; the same.

"Morning Lilac"

Just a thought!

Awakened this morning by the lovely fragrance

Of Lilacs teasing my sences...

The sweet purfume of a delicate flower 

Pressed up against my nose, enticing me to

Engulf myself in a deep wiff of her intoxicating scent.

Emerced in mouthfuls of sweetness, I was consumed...

A view of her bountiful portions sitting just atop my

Window sill, swaying in the breeze, as the sunlight

Glistened on her delicate, moist petals.

"Never so lovely, was a pretty flower,

                                             In morning bloom"





Author's Notes/Comments: 

"Morning Lilac"

Flowers of Time

Just a thought!

Sad as it is... all things in life must die...

The animals we adore,

All the loved ones we hold dear,

Memories of them fading with age...

Even the names on their stones have eroded with time'

Someday...I too, shall be looked upon...

Flowers in a field... glowing in the warmpth of sunlight'




Author's Notes/Comments: 

"Just a thought of reality in time"

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Growing a Flower

Just a thought!

You can plant an idea, but lack ground to proceed

Some flowers don't grow, with too many weeds

You trim it and weed it, sweating work that was done

But flowers don't grow without the right sun

You move it and douse it, becoming it's slave

But flowers can't grow in a watery grave

You caress it and work it, adding things to the soil

Some flowers won't grow in pesticide oil

Try planting a seedling, water once when you're done

Let it blossom and grow, in the warmpth of the sun.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

I call it... Dr Seuss style

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Painted in the Canvas

Just a thought!
Streaming through a sun swept field, Tethered ballerinas dancing in the wind
Waves of iridescent colors blow across a sea of refracted cotton candy.
Never a sweeter breeze, I could wisp it round a cone and taste it's allure.

As a choreographed ballet sways with balance and perfection, sunlight glistens

through silken shawls while a few lace ribbons float around with the wind.

Natures creations in full bloom, petals fluttering up a wind song as the breeze

whistles through bouquets of timeless beauty. Kneeling at the edge rows,

the wind rustles through my long silky hair; I become part of the symphony.

Immersed in this wondrous creation... I am forever, painted in the canvas.


by Barry Anderson


Author's Notes/Comments: 

#1Beauty in a field of flowers

 #2"You're always a part of the picture, sometimes needing a bigger one as you look back."