Poetry: Flore Power, Prisoner, and the Beast by Teresita Blanco

Flore Power 
by Teresita Blanco

The bud has withered,

Stem, roots, and all.

Plucked from the ground;

It never made a sound!

A new flower blooms

In its place.

Its petals, golden,

Its fragrance, alluring,

It masks the smell

Of the flower that fell.

Prisoner
by Teresita Blanco

I am tired of this cage.

Where is the key?

I wonder for how long

I’ve stayed underground.

I do not see

The light of thee!

Why must I suffer?

What’s your point?

Truly, your works are wonders,

And the source of my misery!

What is the end your long for?

Let’s return to once before.

To a time before

I drank this bitter pill.

Please give me the key!

I want to live.

Let me see the sun again.

Bring an end to this pain!

The Beast 
by Teresita Blanco

Behold, this desert.

No plains or dunes

Just sun.

Somehow the stars

Do not shimmer

At night.

The nearby city

Has swallowed

The moon.

The serpent has risen.

You must go be christen.

Leave this desert!

Here you won’t survive.

Enter his city.

Go there to receive his mark.

Your suffering has yet begun.

No more,

“I am sweet and innocent.”

You’ve not worth a cent,

You slave!

Bend over and labor!

If his pity allows,

You may share a meal

With his guard dogs.

If God be willing,

You may be chilling

In the master chamber.

Copyright Teresita Blanco

You do not have permission to use my poems without my express written consent.