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Everywhere I go, I find a poet has been there before me.
-Sigmund Freud
Emotional Bouquets
Emotional Bouquets
Vaguely reminiscent of my early fertility
The “feelings” rollercoaster of maidenhood
Then the glory of making babies with this
Wonderful body I travel in caused me to quake
With rage and drench with tears
The surging drenching hormones
Of the matron
Propelling us with super-human strength
Mustering all the energy mothers
Display seemingly with the ease to which a
Peacock unfurls royal beauty
Emotional bouquets
Came then, on schedule
Riding with the moon
One could count on it,
One could make space for it
Emotional bouquets quieted to merely a speed bump
In the lunar month as time marched on
A thing of the past, I said
Yes time marched on and I didn’t notice the subtle changes
I lost count, I think
Or maybe I had not even begun counting
I never honored the Goddesses of my youth as I should
Lady Estrogen, the enchanting temptress
She fecund as the spring
All hope and bright futures
Erotic in the long grasses
Her emotional bouquets are given with a seductive smile
She gathers the dream of babies tip toeing from the cabbage patch
Her body young and supple, she prefers the innocence and passion of nudity
This lady craves company, lusts for unity.
She is wild like a stallion and as playful as a kitten
When she retires the moon goes dark
The waxing of which brings the soreness of breasts,
The waterlogged bloated belly of Lady Progesterone
Her chariot is the Full Moon and her mood is earthbound like a clod
This Goddess’ mission is to manifest
In the light of the harvest moon with her I am forced to work to create
She is “no-nonsense”
She is the autumn storehouse
The bronze and the orange, the rage
The bonfires burn in her emotional bouquets
She turns our face away from other forcibly and demands we look
To ourselves
She is so harsh; at times I’ve hated her
All covered in woolen shawl
But I have seen her works
It is she who brings into this world of form, the dreams
That Lady E reveal to me
Her intense energies propel all that is from the shadows
I see this now
Though rather sadly for I am in the journey to the
Crone’s hermitage
And I am looking backwards
My path now is one of hot flashes, sleepless nights
Constant Emotional bouquets
It’s a treacherous journey,
One that requires great skill to navigate
My goddesses my old friends are pulling back in love
There is yet another that I will meet further on they say
For now the Ladies still share with me the moon and our cycles
But one day I will swallow her whole and she will swallow me
Emotional bouquets will be no more
The waters will be deep and still
And the androgyny of
Childhood will return again
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