Petals prance upon swaying stem,
bending to wind's will with
a gentle surrender;
sighing in silence,
a come hither seduction
of love's name,
as wishes wilt in wait
of gold dusted dreams dying
leaving ashen remains
to lie in an unmarked grave.
In a list
- Natural Beauty • next in list
- Matters of the Heart • next in list
- Winners ~ Honorable Mentions • next in list
A contest entry
- Further Morning Quickiness...10/10L/30m by poet2angels.
475 points, ended October 31, 2007, 8 entries
Honorable winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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Alliteration gallore huh! and what a beautiful picture that is! the content of the poem has a sad tinge but you've portrayed it very beautifully
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Well dear in my humble opinion this was better than an hm. It is always a reward to come to your sight and read such lovely poetry. It is always my pleasure
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This is very lovely with a somewhat sad but true ending It was a lovely poem to read and I liked it


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This is really a wonderful poem Bel. It's penned very soft and delicate. Congrats on the honorable mention here. Job well done

It reminds me of this quote..
" The pain passes. The beauty remains " ~ Auguste Renoir

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Breathtaking in its' beauty, Bel!

Touching, lovely, and just one that reaches the heart
Love ya much, girl
Congrats on the HM!
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Fading beauty
This is beautifully sad. You're on a roll today, don't stop I say!
Love you.
lil


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This piece encapsulates the life process beginings to final endings well. Great metaphoric uses.Keep that quill tip dipped in indigo.


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vivid imagery here and free verse style, flowers fading beauty, seem to rise and fall, such well used imagery here to describe feelings and emotions...so very well done...PK


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wow/....Such a sway of sad waltz...This is beautiful written with lovelyt alliteration and flow as well as emotion!
Amazing
Lynda


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Such a sad but beatuiful fading essence in the last traces of sigh disapating to far of places of noted experience...lovely this is my friend
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prompt is:
“The poet knows himself only on the condition that things resound in him, and that in him, at a single awakening, they and he come forth together out of sleep.”
~Jacques Maritain
or
the pic above
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Killing me here, or over there, yonder
where fingers wait in a mytical pondering,
for veil to lift and off she spins
me holding silk to shed her secret....


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