The Lily’s-Libertine

 

An indictment against heartless men

 

Coming into blossoms of juvenile bloom,

Beauty’s bud, as of then, had not its root,

Had not its stem fixed nor firmly founded

In suit belonging to Woman of sensibility

By whose aplomb and gentility

All would be right to assume

Her grace, her groomed,

And well-dressed attire should

Attest to maturity at its best.

 

And I imagine lesser men, all the shyer

In making cautious approach

Beholding an elegance standing far higher

Losing nerve, on closer encroach,

To inquire of her availability

When farther they must reach

To impress Lady standing height of tree.

 

But I had blooms of a young Maiden then

Free spirited in blue jeans

When petals were fine and rosy

As blushing supple skin

Eager to dance with

The wind’s winsome gentlemen.

 

And among them came suitor

Eager to touch my cheek,

To lift me above garden fence

To eagerly convince me in

Subtle seductive speak

Bargaining for my fragrance in

Corruptive pleas.

 

Lily’s-libertine, practiced in art of

   Dahlia-debauchery, bribing with buying

                       Of Lady’s-Slippers

 

The Rose’s-Romeo, chasing after fine

   Petals in skirts for Peony-pleasure

            Oh, Lilac-lecher

 

How you were wishing to snip me from my stem

Yet giving of no clue from which to conclude

That you were lusting for my youth.

Unsure, I was, of what to do with my petal blooms

But I trusted you knew,

Trusted you knew what I should do

Trusted your view was without skew

Of but if I knew who you were…

 

Lily’s-libertine, practiced in art of

   Dahlia-debauchery, bribing with buying

Of Lady’s-Slippers

 

The Rose’s-Romeo, chasing after fine

Petals in skirts for Peony-pleasure

            Oh, Lilac-lecher

 

 

Yet I could not see your flattery

Would lead me to heart shattering

And eventually there I was,

Left to dry and die.

Another exploited flower to satisfy desire’s fire

Another bewitched then

Ditched and pitched

For the pyre by you who shows no remorse

When you seek to conspire

Vowing never to retire

From the taking of more.

 

At this day, I’ve shed my young Maiden blooms

My stem was dead; now my backbone booms

Standing at height of tried tree in Woman’s suit

Anchored by, fortified and fixed in solid root

And I refuse all advances from lesser men

Seeking weak places in fragile stem.

 

I condemn you now fair-weather suitor

Dancing in on wind to sweep

Maiden youth from off their feet:

 

Lily’s-libertine, practiced in art of

   Dahlia-debauchery, bribing with buying

                      Of Lady’s-Slippers

 

The Rose’s-Romeo, chasing after fine

   Petals in skirts for Peony-pleasure

                        Oh, Lilac-lecher

 

Once, I wilted, wept, and tear-seeped

At all the promises left

You so feared to keep

But those choices

I dealt with, I accepted, I reaped

For trusting in you petal lusting.

 

Longing for touch of Two-Lips sweet

For you loved me, then loved me not

Yet loved plucking for your petaled lot

I do send a bouquet of thorns your way

That will surely come on day

You may be spending tending

To flower picking

Leeching green and supple hues.

 

Thorns will come on day

When hours begin slow ticking

Like unwanted men trapped in gray.

 

© 2014. Asha Gowan. All Rights Reserved.

Published by

Asha Gowan

I am an aspiring poet, novelist, musician, visual artist, and a die hard jazz enthusiast (partial to writing). I did not have a choice in the matter as both of my parents are creative to the core. Van Gogh beautifully painted the artist's portrait with his words: "The more I think about it, the more I realize there is nothing more artistic than to love others." I've made that ideal the primary catalyst for my work. Born as one of nature's esthetes, beauty is the goal of every song, every poem, every piece of art. Beauty that will touch the hearts and minds of others. I try to design my art to be healing and empathetic. I study and find intriguing people of all kinds, which informs a lot of my insights. I've drawn inspiration on the art of positivity, of spiritual uplifting from writers like Throeau, John Muir, Ohiyesa (Charles Eastman), the psalmist David, etc. Seeking a unique verve in my style, I make thorough investigations of all sorts of art and challenge myself to the hilt for the growth of my ingenuity. I am eager to share my musings with everyone here and wish to disseminate them. Thank you!