Advent

It is against the rules, which say

That nothing here can be real.

No doubt it will be taken away

With a shaken head and hand

 

By one whose endless job it is

To maintain a beautiful fiction.

I place the poinsettia on the stone,

Among a thousand plastic flowers.

 





Poetry by countryfog
Read 471 times
Written on 2011-12-09 at 17:31

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The thing about artificial flowers is, it seems to me, that their posture of longevity is deceiving. Though it takes a little more time, eventually the dye in the petals begins to fade and the accummulating dust and grime give them away as impostors.

Strikingly unique and original subject matter. A fine piece of work.
2011-12-11


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
A fine thought, well expressed, with a great punchline. Good poem, Fog.
2011-12-10


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
I see this lovely flower at the head of a cherished grave; a promise of love and remembrance.
2011-12-10


shells
Some rules are made to be broken with your poigniant poinsettia, I am glad you did.
2011-12-10



A rule worth breaking.
2011-12-09


John Ashleigh
This is such a pleasure to read. A meaningful piece. Thankyou for sharing.

Regards,
John.
2011-12-09