she blooms softly

she blooms softly
bobbie collins

She was crazy about him…
but he pursued her friend…
who loved another to the
exclusion of their friendship…

The flower you seek says she’s taken
But hides quite a lot from my view
Tho close once we now are so different
She’s changed from the one that I knew

Mourning unrequited love…
as well as the loss of a girlfriend…
the author sought healing through
her steadfast “companion”…

The implement of my expression
Of thoughts that just could not be said
For always my notebook would listen
And into my verse then I fled

Expressing her aching…
she retraced her life journeys…
to mend her heart by revisiting
her verse spanning twenty years…

I started to write at age fifteen
On paper I poured out my soul
For then I had no one to share with
And thus all my words I’d inscroll

Weaving her free verse with
precise rhyming trimeter quatrains…
her “poetic autobiography”
then languished in seclusion…

I write this as if it were to you
But all that I write is for me
If you hear these words it won’t matter
The writing of them sets them free
Refocusing her life now...
she shares glimpses into her soul...
as her free verse evolves from
dark, raw, teenage immaturity…
no one
i am nothing

…through exulting with nature’s metaphors and seasons of imagery...
amidst the trees
cottoned with snow
a flower blooms
alone
in the hushed wilderness…
blossoms faded
yet radiant
against the bleak whiteness
of winter…
vibrant color
against the harsh blackness
of naked trees

1127167827
she blooms softly

she blooms softly
bobbie collins

She was crazy about him…
but he pursued her friend…
who loved another to the
exclusion of their friendship…

The flower you seek says she’s taken
But hides quite a lot from my view
Tho close once we now are so different
She’s changed from the one that I knew

Mourning unrequited love…
as well as the loss of a girlfriend…
the author sought healing through
her steadfast “companion”…

The implement of my expression
Of thoughts that just could not be said
For always my notebook would listen
And into my verse then I fled

Expressing her aching…
she retraced her life journeys…
to mend her heart by revisiting
her verse spanning twenty years…

I started to write at age fifteen
On paper I poured out my soul
For then I had no one to share with
And thus all my words I’d inscroll

Weaving her free verse with
precise rhyming trimeter quatrains…
her “poetic autobiography”
then languished in seclusion…

I write this as if it were to you
But all that I write is for me
If you hear these words it won’t matter
The writing of them sets them free
Refocusing her life now...
she shares glimpses into her soul...
as her free verse evolves from
dark, raw, teenage immaturity…
no one
i am nothing

…through exulting with nature’s metaphors and seasons of imagery...
amidst the trees
cottoned with snow
a flower blooms
alone
in the hushed wilderness…
blossoms faded
yet radiant
against the bleak whiteness
of winter…
vibrant color
against the harsh blackness
of naked trees

23.99 In Stock
she blooms softly

she blooms softly

by Bobbie Collins
she blooms softly

she blooms softly

by Bobbie Collins

Hardcover

$23.99 
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Overview

she blooms softly
bobbie collins

She was crazy about him…
but he pursued her friend…
who loved another to the
exclusion of their friendship…

The flower you seek says she’s taken
But hides quite a lot from my view
Tho close once we now are so different
She’s changed from the one that I knew

Mourning unrequited love…
as well as the loss of a girlfriend…
the author sought healing through
her steadfast “companion”…

The implement of my expression
Of thoughts that just could not be said
For always my notebook would listen
And into my verse then I fled

Expressing her aching…
she retraced her life journeys…
to mend her heart by revisiting
her verse spanning twenty years…

I started to write at age fifteen
On paper I poured out my soul
For then I had no one to share with
And thus all my words I’d inscroll

Weaving her free verse with
precise rhyming trimeter quatrains…
her “poetic autobiography”
then languished in seclusion…

I write this as if it were to you
But all that I write is for me
If you hear these words it won’t matter
The writing of them sets them free
Refocusing her life now...
she shares glimpses into her soul...
as her free verse evolves from
dark, raw, teenage immaturity…
no one
i am nothing

…through exulting with nature’s metaphors and seasons of imagery...
amidst the trees
cottoned with snow
a flower blooms
alone
in the hushed wilderness…
blossoms faded
yet radiant
against the bleak whiteness
of winter…
vibrant color
against the harsh blackness
of naked trees


Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781438985145
Publisher: AuthorHouse
Publication date: 09/29/2017
Pages: 124
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.44(d)

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

innocence

The soil I was raised on was rocky Instead of rich earth it was sand I learned to survive without nurture Exist without aid from the land.

My roots, although feeble, they served me Found sustenance where e're they could I learned to adapt and grew slowly And life in the forest withstood.

Oh I was an innocent flower Naïve, oh I was, full of trust I bent with each breeze that swirled 'round me And knew not the meaning of lust.

So meek and so fragile I was then Brought low by the winds when they blew But learned, from the willow, resilience And that strength alone saw me through.

Again and again I pulled upright Soon after each storm made me bow And saw that the brittle had broken So thus in my childhood did vow:

Through storms, I would keep my eyes open And constantly seek out all truth To age and yet not become bitter But keep the sweet guile of my youth.

now ... today ...
autumn 1963

The flower you seek says she's taken But hides quite a lot from my view Though close once we now are so different She's changed from the one that I knew.

From wild once she now has grown stately Reserved and demure and refined She's chosen a course that I choose not It's not down the path that I wind.

It's sad and I grieve when it happens When someone who once was a friend Goes off in a different direction And closeness thus comes to an end.

Oh yes, we may go through the motions Of habits and simply respond As always, but that won't diminish The gap that has broken the bond.

When I was a young tender flower A close friend from me did estrange As children we had played together But then she decided to change.

Yet I was not ready to grow up A child I still wanted to be I clung to the spring of my youth then Though sad that she left without me.

i like her.
autumn 1963

once upon a time there was a creek in springtime she had two names ...
we used to talk the creek and i about many things that others didn't even understand.
but then one day she decided she was too grown up to travel in her well-worn path.
i walked along her abandoned banks i went to the falls minnehaha falls but they didn't laugh or sing ...
but someday i will go to the river and love it grown-up style and then i hope it will love me too grown-up style someday i hope ...

winter 1964

Yet it's her pale blossom you want now Our differences tell me of you You want not this noisy wild flower Unruly and vibrant in hue.

I want to be tame, in a garden Yet let my blooms spring to and fro And petals arrange with no pattern And blossoms not set in a row.

Perhaps what I want is too much then To keep all the pluck of my birth Yet live thus in a mellow garden And grow my roots deep in the earth.

We change, oh we change and I have too Though part of me still is the same I'm still the wild flower I have been Yet over the years I've grown tame.

To be wild and tame seems contrary Just one and not both may we be I spent many years in confusion In wonder of which one was me.

The botany books list the genus And species of flowers that grow Dichotomy is not acknowledged Not where I fit in did I know.

qu'est-ce que c'est que ça?
autumn 1964

The wild I describe is emotion Vivacious raw passion of youth To cynics, maturity's lacking Sophisticates call it uncouth.

I balanced 'tween child and adult then As others my age did the same But then when adulthood had won them It all was a strange aloof game.

I could not resolve the dilemma Of having to hide what I felt A poker face meant I was grown-up Not showing the cards I was dealt.

So sheltered I was in the forest And felt not the sun from above But timidly crept to its edges And then did I first fall in love.

The one that I loved said he loved me Unleashed, my emotions did flow Until my poised friend he did meet and To me then indifference did show.

I grieved but bounced back very quickly And loved then again and again But when I'd reveal my deep feelings Away from these passions they ran.

many things ... i think about and wonder and try to understand ...
winter 1965

There's so much about you that's special The depth of your feelings inside The fire of emotions that glow, but You're constantly trying to hide.

I see that you've passions unbridled As stallions locked up within stalls The wild in your nature, it lives still I've seen it in spite of your walls.

Oh I don't begrudge you your walls, though I know about walls and their use Survive is what all of us must do For walls no one needs an excuse.

Emotions that are not extinguished Though raging they must be contained It thus was the forest I fled to And there for a while I remained.

And so I did learn to retreat there To hide the extents of my soul Alone I admitted my passions With others I used self-control.

The dark woods did serve as my walls then Behind the tall trees did I slink I hid midst the brush and the bushes Alone in that peace did I think.

tonite ... i sit ... and think ...
autumn 1965

I want to go live in your garden To let my roots grasp the rich earth And feel the warm sun of your presence That sparkles with laughter and mirth.

I know not that much of your garden Yet glimpses enough have I seen To recognize good soil and thus know The nature of your lush terrene.

I always have been a wild flower And staunch in the forest I've stood Though venturing out, I'd retreat then Into the deep peace of the wood.

I wanted to be a wild flower Roots clung to the rocks of my birth The forest was coarse but I knew it And feared all outside of its girth.

Oh yes, it was dark in my hiding But yet it was safe and secure The trees they did shield and protect me And taught me their strength to endure.

But many did want just to pick me To pluck off my roots from my stem I bristled sharp thorns for protection And closed up my blossoms to them.

look at the flower it is young, it is fresh, it is alive, so alive but do not pick it, for it is wild
winter 1966

CHAPTER 2

turmoil

Alone I did hide in the forest Beneath the strong limbs of the oak With birches and spruce as companions In innocence wrapped as a cloak.

But silence became desolation It held not the comfort of old I needed to touch and be touched by The sun's warmth and flee from the cold.

The sun, it could scorch, yes, I know that But I was so young and naïve Out there was the daylight I yearned for That dark shelter thus I did leave.

Headlong towards bright light I did run then Away from the forest I rushed Uncloaked, I embraced all of life, but Exposed so, I quickly was crushed.

My blooms were flung down by a harsh world My petals were bitterly raped The flower I had been was beaten My blossoms were battered and scraped.

The seasons descended upon me No more was I sheltered by trees Unready I was for the winter Defeated, I fell to my knees.

you listened
i knew her then.

winter 1967

That winter was harsh and so bitter I thought it had frozen me too I'd felt the cold penetrate deeply Believing my soul's life was through.

But somehow I lived through that winter The willow had taught me quite well:
'Twas over a year 'til the thaw though Until that cold winter dispelled But once having left knew I could not Stay long in the woods where I'd dwelled.

Trees gave me protection, for certain But kept out the light of the day I'd hide 'til I captured my strength back And only 'til then could I stay.

Outside of the forest was sunshine So that's where I wanted to grow But now knew the fury of seasons Fierce storms, burning heat, ice and snow.

Alone in my walls of the forest I'd heal and not suffer from pain But loneliness, bleak isolation Upon my scarred soul they did reign.

how do you express, share,
spring 1968

And thus this wild flower did wander To learn of the world and its ways I opened my blossoms to sunshine But closed them on dark stormy days.

I learned then the sun's rays were wisdom And in them of life could I know The truth, when intense, it could burn, yet I needed that sunshine to grow.

And then I did learn of the storms too Though furies may bring driving rain That water, it cleansed and it strengthened Solidity thus could I gain.

Through both sun and rain then the wind came Both gentle and fierce did it blow But yet it would leave in an instant Eluding my grasp, it would go.

The magic it held did entice me But always evading my reach I marveled at wind but knew not how To learn of that which it did teach.

And thus, so world wise, so I thought then In thinking all battles were won I opened myself to the clear sky And bravely went forth in the sun.

(Continues…)



Excerpted from "She Blooms Softly"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Bobbie Collins.
Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents

prologue, 1,
innocence, 13,
turmoil, 33,
resolution, 77,
epilogue, 93,

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