The blossoming

I thank you Lord
that you by grace blessed me
to let my slender flowers grow
flooding over in bell like strings
in internodes, joints of roses

not peach, purple or pink
like others of my kind
but in a pure white colouring
with odourless buds opening

and some ridicule, hold my words,
my verses of rhyme and free form in parody
but my flowering is from your hand

and I can understand that they are thinking
of flowers like roses, irises, geraniums
which are tempered against the elements
bringing forth fragrant odours
that perfumes the air
but in your shade and care I am blossoming.

[Reference: The blossoming by Tatamkhulu Afrika.]

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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