Goldstars

I haven't posted a poem in a long time. How can this be? I am remiss, remiss.

This poem comes from the Shadow Poetry contest, back when they had contests. The quality of the poetry varies but the ones on this page are all quite short, so it's like looking through a chocolate box and trying to figure out where the truffle is hiding.

Here's one of them, no searching needed.

Goldstars
by Maralee Gerke

Too early for bees,
the tiny flowers of
Goldstar shimmer in
a spreading yellow carpet.
their golden tongues beckon
me to lie down and
pollinate my dreams.

Pollinate. Doesn't that just make the poem? Such an odd use of the word, but so right.

We've been reading poetry in Russian class. There is something very satisfying about Pushkin, even when you have no earthly idea what he's saying; you can hear the rhythm in it, and you know that this is real poetry, and this is why for centuries poetry was the pinnacle of art.