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Writing Tomorrow


dust to dust
ashes mingle with solitude;
an orphaned flower
seeds flow from conventional –

a habit of meiosis,
propagating reduction
then, birthing a creation

but,
no one grafts no more,
no one blooms no more;

for we depart
thus, we die.


Author notes

Tomorrow is a lonely road.

A contest entry

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Comments


  • individuality gold member
    September 16

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    a good poem, no one grafts... i look at this with relation to your title writing tomorrow and think of all the poets of today, so many do not care for their art, they strangle language as it is born.