Unashamed

Fate sometimes blows a seed into an inhospitable garden. The balance of sun and shade might be off, or it might be shunned as a weed in a carefully curated bed. But sympathetic eyes understand what it needs to thrive. Watch how stunted plants unashamedly flaunt their colors once they are shown some love.


Unfriendly soil chokes
leaves curious for their own
suppressed flowers. Hurt
flees at loving caresses
when blooms believe in their worth.

Song Choice:  Make Me Feel by Janelle Monae

This poem was inspired by the song/ video mentioned above and is linked to The Tuesday Platform at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads and Poetry Pantry 394 at Poets United.

54 comments:

  1. May we all receive the blessing of sympathetic eyes.

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  2. Hurt flees at loving caresses when blooms believe in their worth...so very true. Beautiful words and wise.

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  3. I wonder about that ... there are so many different flowers, dandelions for instance are happy even if they are scorned.

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  4. Bwahahahahahahhaha...do you know that right after I hit publish, I actually did think, "well, then there's dandelions, the punk rebels of the flower world". You're right, they do just fine whether we're their fans or foes. I happen to like the tenacious buggers. Their roots make delicious tea.

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  5. I sighed when I finished reading this one, even the third time around... There is such power to be found in the celebration of our weird, and in embracing the even weirder to those who need it.

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  6. when blooms believe in their worth... how much can come from love and caresses and how much from within.. much to ponder over..great write.

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  7. Even with our blemishes we still long for some notice and kind words of affection for the worth we have. A big smile (bloom for the pkant) will be our return.
    ..

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  8. I remember as a child there was no distinction between flower and weed but gradually they were ousted from our childish minds. Now many years later I long to see my old friends that are nowhere to be seen.

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    Replies
    1. Some things were simpler when we were children.

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  9. This resonated with me...deeply. My story..my life.

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  10. The opening line is magic! Every other image grows from the first.

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    1. Thanks Kerry. I had a lot of fun working with this imagery.

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  11. A little TLC does make difference. :)

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  12. Lovely. Reminds me of when I first read Secret Garden when I was a girl as a forsaken garden blossoms

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    1. I hadn't made that connection - but, boy do I love that!

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  13. What a fabulous metaphor for life....yes it is amazing how we grow with just a little love...even weeds flower!

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  14. "Hurt flees at loving caresses when blooms believe in their worth"...this drew a deep sigh from me. Such wisdom in your words, Rommy!💖

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    1. I'm so pleased I could elicit that response. :)

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  15. Agreeing with Rosemary's comment. True of humans too. Believing in one's worth is so important.

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  16. True, belief in self is enough to steer through.

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  17. Loved especially:
    "leaves curious for their own
    suppressed flowers.'
    Beautiful writing Rommy

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  18. ".....when blooms believe in their worth". This goes for humans, too. Loved this.

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  19. "when blooms believe in their worth." Luv that line

    Happy Sunday

    much love...

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  20. Replies
    1. I'm so glad it succeeds on multiple levels.

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  21. Beautiful! I love, 'blooms believing in their own worth'.

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  22. wonderful metaphor for me.
    ZQ

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  23. It took a long time for me to celebrate me, the good, the bad, the weird. I love this. It needs to be shared, believed.

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    1. That is a wonderful compliment Susie. Thank you so much for stopping by.

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  24. Beautifully penned ~ sympathetic eyes understand what it needs to thrive ~ For me, I felt a message of kindness and wisdom in this ... perhaps even: that kindness is wise. What a different world we would have, if we proceeded with the philosophy that kindness is the best course to follow.

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    1. I like to imagine a kinder world. Hopefully some day, that will be possible.

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  25. There is such little kindness in this world.It costs nothing and means everything. Thank you for a lovely poem.

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