amaryllis (/ˌæməˈrɪlɪs/[1]) – bears the name of the shepherdess in virgil's pastoral eclogues. it stems from the greek ἀμαρύσσω (amarysso), meaning "to sparkle", and it is rooted in "amarella" for the bitterness of the bulb. the common name, "naked lady", comes from the plant's pattern of flowering that blooms when the foliage dies. in the victorian language of flowers, it means "radiant beauty".
i undulate
with the sun in my teeth
and with my hair braided on salt
put my head on my mother’s lap
and listened to the birds
yes i have spite
but i also have love
my longing for myself is my song
dissolved in shades of blue in the dreamy lecco! #bellaitalia
you said you loved me accusatorily
with a glimmer in your eyes.
your hands entwined with mine
like ivy,
swiftly travelled to my shoulders
and strangled my neck
with care.
your tender messages were
sweet like thyme
and your love
smothered me.
i was ashamed
that i could not mirror your affection,
but God knows i tried.
on our last night together
you listened to music
while i cried on the floor.
as you slept,
i curled to the edge of your bed.
lips pressed to my knees,
i saw through my attachment to you,
and left wordlessly.
i know i did you wrong, too,
i’m sorry.
but love does not cage.
slighting bhakti poetry, the poems belonging to the “of jumbled warmth” section of ~ songs of youth ~ are poems i wrote which would most closely resemble what would be known as poems of love. sharing the ending stanzas of “you said you loved me accusatorily” from verona, the city of love!
*when i mused something similar, my very wise friend @flagrantambiguity noted that all poetry is love poetry in essence, only not in the customary way we think about love – which i *love*-d 🫀😁 because, indeed, to write a poem about something implies devotion to it – be it devotion to anger, grief or hatred. (my take!)
amaryllis 