People our age are passing away; I
prepare for a funeral by growing flowers
for intensive care
If I loved you less, how easy it would be
to plow under my only offerings
I am continuously caught
with a blossom dangling desperately
from dropped hand wonder
why now? Are we really ready?
If I loved you less,
would dredged stem from root
rip any more dear?
No, my heart is a gardener
of black books with old addresses
in well-laid plots, plowed under
with bits of my heart
love becomes less lustful
and more sympathetic
would I have grown more beautifully
or died less hard in these seasons’ changes
if I had loved you less
Author notes
dedicated to the ones outside my family that I first loved... those losses that make me know my destiny with them was nothign more than to care for them like pressed petals in old bible.
A contest entry
- PIF with a TWIST!!! Season Of Change by Spiritual Nature.
800 points, ended November 5, 2007, 9 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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You paint and whisper your craft onto the paper and I am thrilled to have shared in it. Best wishes to you dear poet and keep that pen handy.
♥ Touchof1der -
Ah Carol . . . a tender sentiment so eloquently stated . . . having gone through so much of the same the last couple of years your words are a gift to me . . . thankyou once again for your thoughtfulness and compassion.
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Guncha Guncha it is Great.
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I am still absorbing your wonderful swirls. Being at that age myself, I can totally relate, but your poem is much deeper than that. It is more prophetic and artististly expressed. Your colors vibrant as you weaved your web. Great Job! Blessing, D.
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so true
I like the gardener of black books.
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