The buds are blossoming in my garden
Delicate, serene, pure
They whisper unassuming of perfection
The antithesis of my disturbing reflection
I wonder of my slow descent
From daisy to dirt. Spent. Unspent.
Longing to form as perfectly as a petal
Pert as a peach, a vision to revel
The vision in the river is tired and sinking
Malformed, wilted, tainted
It goads sinister of my imperfection
No lotus beneath awaiting erection
I stab at the ugly until muds start to swirl
Breaking the broken. Furl. Unfurl.
Dissolving deep until nothing is left
My hunt for perfection, my soul is bereft
What if perfection is when dust makes a star?
Or the point in the journey, when you know not where you are?
Who decides what is perfect? Them, you or me?
Perhaps perfection, is when you learn to be free?
Free from the plastic and free from the crowd
Free from the noise that was always too loud
Free from the false prophets and the lies that they keep
Free from the unTruth that taught you to creep
The buds are blossoming in my unrest
Determined, unapologetic, enchanting
They cast a spell upon complicit confusion
Delivering me far from this delectable delusion
Perfect imperfection, I rise just for me
If tomorrow, I fall, my fall will be free
-
Author:
sylviasearcher (
Offline) - Published: February 1st, 2021 06:09
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 43
- Users favorite of this poem: Fay Slimm., L. B. Mek
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Comments5
Great words really enjoyed reading this.
Thank you heatherbee š
The quandary of quandarys. Perhaps perfection is the act of taking part itself. For perfection, perceived as it is by only us the individual, for there will always be lesser and greater.
Thank you
I guess for me I was thinking about the harsh judgment and pressure I often burden myself with.
Sometimes it can make me feel like not participating at all
With so much time on our hand ,in lockdown, and so many frustrations, I find my own mind can become overactive and runs ahead of my current capabilities. Leaving me frustrated/depressed because I too am unable to participate.
"Perfect imperfection "- - only a poet gifted with shaping words into new ways of presenting imagery could think of combining that duo. I have put this piece of reflection into my list of faves with humble thanks for sharing it Sylvia.
Why thank you Faye. Your appreciation of my humble offerings means so very much
We aim for perfection in our lives but if we achieve it for what do we aim then.
Good words Sylvia.
Andy
Thanks Andy... sometimes the endeavour is what is perfect...
infused with that self-mined belief, of your true worth,
what an empowering read you've sculpted - so cleverly,
I can only imagine your level of dedication, to craft something so insightful yet more meaningfully: accessible!
a great write!
Thank you so much for your kind words... I have an idea about making poetry more accessible. Maybe give me your thoughts on what Iām about to post
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