i extend, caress a flower
to his thick black hair,
pull the trigger,
fire-
like coals to gray
ashes of immortality.
blossom bullets
weaving a hollow masterpiece
throughout his fertile memory,
seeding luscious overgrowth
spilling to the otherside
weeping willow.
i pick the petals,
as silk to teeth and tongue,
brush away his gray,
and contemplate my garden.
April 6, 2007 at 10:21 pm
just because
it
looks like poe-
try it isn’
t
necessarily
tha
t
April 7, 2007 at 1:46 am
An anonymous coward, a jackal with no teeth. Your bite amuses me as you attempt to chew something greater than you.
Do not attack the author when metaphor or imagery slip past your feeble mind. Perhaps you would service your time better in study rather than critique.
I hope my polysyllabic response has not confounded you too terribly. May your days be blessed with ignorance.
April 7, 2007 at 1:50 am
I wanted to keep this comment separate.
If anyone desires to leave a proper (constructive) review of a poem, I will embrace it. However, random drive by’s will be met head on. To all those that truly care, your voice is always welcome.
April 8, 2007 at 8:44 pm
I think it’s beautiful Jonathan! Though it does “slip past my feeble mind” it also seems to cling to other parts of me. Whether it be my imagination, curiosity or heart… I’m not quite sure, maybe all three. Alas, it is the mystery of your work that I love the most! I’ll prolly pester you to reveal the mystery of this piece later, but for now… I’m content to ponder and marvel at its brilliance. I almost enjoy this as much as your caustic retort!!