*on
muddled memory, fading flowers, senseless slaughter and gruesome gardening…
For you,
a flower
I did
once pluck,
On a
happy day, the sky so clear;
It was
fate
Far more
than luck
You see, you
shined above the others, dear.
So long ago
My angel, still,
How I remember that very day;
I took you here,
Against your will;
But then, at least, (I think) you said you’d stay…
My memory it
Serves me badly;
Still, I wonder if you'd agree
After such plucking
Hard and madly
You lost your will and did belong to me!
The
siren’s spell
Your
beauty spread
Is what
drew me to your abduction
I cut
your flesh
Until you
bled
(Diagonally through the stem for extra suction).
Oh yes, my wounded
Fragrant petal;
‘T-is true you may then well have bled
So to ensure
The dust
would settle,
I took
you home and put you in a vase instead.
Your
brief stay
It was a pure
delight;
I longed
for it to last forever
With
water
And a
little light
I hoped
the bond we’d forged would never sever.
I can’t
remember
If you
cried
The day I
locked you in your room;
I like to
think
You truly
tried
To work
against your own impending doom.
A perfect
bloom
It feels
no pain
It
suffers so that it can give
Why then
you
Had to so
complain;
Without
those screams you had the chance to live!
So
perkily
Your
breasts still tilt
Within my
busy fantasy
'T-was thus
a shock
To see
them wilt
I then
knew not what time could do, you see...
Losing
you
Caused me
such pain
I hated
to have to hear you cry
Though
the memory
Of you
could stay
You,
yourself, so soiled and wilted, had to die…
Can you
still feel
That
jagged knife?
The one I
used for flower display?
Protesting
so to
Protect
your life
When you’d
condemned yourself to always stay…
Though awful sprectres
Sometimes
loom
The
images that I try to retain
Are that of you
In
vibrant bloom
(The
withered, pleading ones an ugly stain).
Though
buried now
So long
ago
Within my
garden, nice and deep
All
petals lost
Rotting
deep below
The flesh
thus lost to nature’s eternal keep.
At least
alive
Our time
was short,
Perhaps
you'd be consoled to know
That
thanks to you
In my
garden’s court
So many
other flowers, like you, did grow.
Through
the years
The
fleeting flowers
Felt a
love they knew was true
Yet, wilting
left them
Lacking
powers
(So they
were cut and buried just like you).
Though
many petals
Did shed
blood,
Killing
you it was the worst;
You’re my
eternal
bursting bud;
After all, 't-was you I plucked and planted first. . .
Zachar
Laskewicz
23 May
2005
Ghent (Belgium)
[for other poems by Zachar Laskewicz see :
http://www.nachtschimmen.eu/places/fiction/poetry.htm]
23-5-2015
First update 24-5-2015
Second update 25-5-2015
© May 2008 Nachtschimmen
Music-Theatre-Language Nightshades,
Ghent (Belgium)
Send mail to zachar@nachtschimmen.eu with questions or comments about this website. Last modified: 16 May 2013 |
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