deepundergroundpoetry.com

Frida 🌹

she weeps in flowers
they grace her table
along with globs of paint
brushes stand in wait
aged and smooth from weary hands
stained with feelings of rebirth

slowly she paints
flowers convalesce
on a background
of muted tones
they flourish

each petal gracefully unfurls
easing her image
into a bounty of rich hues
where they are free to hang
bend without breaking
knowing no hardship

she imagines her
tears pooling in the vase
so clear and without the fog
of discomfort
flowers float and stand firm
on strong green stems

she sees herself
a flower in her own right
valid of the beauty
that flows and gracefully
purges from the tip of her brush
onto canvas

strong peduncles
rich fluid bounty of petiole
never to fade
never to feel the crush
of fingers grasping
for velvety flesh
to be conformed
manipulated to feel whole

they forever stand in bloom
flushed with pink
that stands high on warm cheeks
such effort to hold her prowess
in the beauty of blossoming

this is her gift to us
strength personified in every flower
held beautifully stemming
from imagination and the realness
of their longevity in Nature
her signature of life
on substance

"I paint flowers so they will not die"