*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