Seeds

Grey ashes of dead blossoms used to lie
Upon the paper waiting for discardment.
They died for my pleasure it seemed...
Every petal fading and succumbing with the wilt
That bleaches the vibrance that cannot live long.

Now into the garden I go that we all eventually know
Going past the gaudy full blooms. Becoming happy and slightly
Dusty so as to inhale deeply as I blow past ashes to the winds.
Then suddenly my pockets are raining seeds.


















Poetry by jenks The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 566 times
Written on 2011-08-05 at 23:49

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
William is right. This poem is very beautifully written, Linda.
2011-08-12



From the image of ashes and death to one of birth and seeds, this poem sings.
2011-08-06


countryfog
Simply perfect . . . to appreciate the moment and to prepare for it's return . . . there is the essence of a religion I can embrace.
2011-08-06



I agree with shells, this is inspired.
2011-08-06


shells
I just adore this, one of your best I feel. There is life and death, but the circle of life seems to prevail.
2011-08-06