Stubborn is the Delight

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What pact made with devilish delight

Keeps you rosy, the color of complication,

Thriving, even in bitter times,

When all senses dictate,

Time has stilled.

Have you not noticed the month?

You, fertile like a California growing field,

Redder than a pigeon blood ruby,

Confuse me.


Last night, I saw you in my sleep,

Recoil from fate.

Adorned in crimson promises,

You blossomed into a tree,

While I embraced the alchemy

That created you,

Curious, abandoned on the terrace.

About this poem:

The holidays were gone and winter was still in full force. Yet, mysteriously, my Christmas Poinsettia remained strong, battling, if not thriving, in the cold on the courtyard. I don’t know why, but it made me feel hopeful.

This work is copyrighted and can not be duplicated or reprinted without permission from the author.

If you’re interested in more thoughts on integrity, compassion and grace–if you’re looking for exploratory questions to unearth pieces of your soul, check out my book Tao Flashes. Or visit me at or on twitter @taoflashes.



12 thoughts on “Stubborn is the Delight

  1. Lovely, Lisa. You express yourself so beautifully through words.

    The sun is out here in cold NJ and I am hopeful that the “real” spring will be around the corner.

    Poinsettias? Hearty souls!

    • I completely understand. I am just finding my way back to poetry after many years. I am so glad you enjoyed my poem– it is nice to hear. And yes, I hope you are finding your way back, too.

  2. What a way with words you have, Lisa! Beautiful poem. I keep looking outside, waiting for signs of spring…still waiting…soon?

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