Again we delve into our “favorite” things. Each item we’ve explored so far, has given a glimpse of what makes us tick. It makes us the people we aspire to be, and the poets that are waiting to burst onto the page to express and divulge. And so too do Marie and I take on the task of choosing from the enormous  pool of talent present here at POETIC BLOOMINGS:


This week, I chose to highlight a voice that is new to our “garden.”  In “Dark Victory,” Jacqueline Casey creates an ambiance, just as an old Bette Davis movie would. So few words were used to fashion a character, and instill a mood.  Her use of anthropomorphism is (though this seems impossible) blatant and subtle all at once. Wonderful work, Jacqueline.  We certainly hope to hear more from you here at Poetic Bloomings.

“Dark Victory” (by Jacqueline Casey)

Bending in her garden, shading her eyes,
Her tulips knew her; it was no surprise…
“Why so dark, my friends, clouds dimming my view?
Maybe rain is coming…my skin feels cold, too.”
Her roses knew the clouds had covered her sun
They knew it as warmth for her soul’s welcome.
Time to drop garden gloves and climb the stair
Accept the darkness. Her flowers aware;
The marigolds had taught their ‘turning in’
soon followed by glorious beginnings.



The essence of my choice is summed up completely by the last three lines of the poem. We can line all our ducks in a row. We can think life is swimming along, but…BIG BUT… Love will rule the day:

If every common axis cohered,
if each middle point persevered,
Love could be so very far-reaching.

My BEAUTIFUL BLOOM goes to Hannah Gosselin’s OFF THE MAP

~OFF THE MAP~ By Hannah Gosselin

Often this slipping to the edges,
releasing deep steam of earth
requires letting lines dissolve;
disappearing into an ocean,
offering one’s body to the expanse
Empty/full place of nothing-ness.
Latitudinal, longitudinal boundaries
break free from their invisible seams,
one would forget their reflection
If it weren’t for the still point;
pooled dark water unbroken,
just waiting for a tepid touch
confirming one’s desire to care.
A simple soulful finger dipped,
a distinct dispersal of water,
this unique creative expression,
of concentric circles swelling;
realizing themselves only when
they embrace the shifting sphere
singularly set to motion
by someone who’s likeness lingers long
lengths of reality reaching
not much different than one’s own.
Every wrinkle reveals a choice
each decision deeply felt by the whole.
One can choose to lend a tender meeting,
concentrically reverberating richly,
emotively across this single surface;
each a person, every ripple a choice.
If every common axis cohered,
if each middle point persevered,
Love could be so very far-reaching.

© H.G. @ P.B. 5/6/12

“Off The Map”