Forgotten Blossoms (2)
By london_calling79
- 4737 reads
Discordant, unkempt
landscape of our unmade bed jars.
Fingerpaint refrigerator rattles empty in
tin-echo kitchen, tube-light flicker.
Fallen blind teeth clack
as draught blasts
unnoticed under
thin skins of pane.
But outside,
the wintering garden fosters a single bloom
replete with
meandering stem pathway,
green-veined with nectar it
builds
to a crescendo of pulsed crimson.
Inside,
spilt tea carpet’s curled snarls
catch life’s detritus,
hold safe our memory stains,
fetid and dormant.
Your hair in plughole valleys,
shots of perfumed air
are eulogies
to your absence.
Goodnight nobody.
No violin swells now.
No twisting and cracking symphony of green-stemmed growth,
arching towards nourishment
with fibres aflame.
Just the carpeted muffle-hush of closing doors.
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Comments
I like this, but I wonder
I like this, but I wonder about hyphens (yeh, sadly my life is caught in the plug-hole of such trivia). Finger-paint refrigerator, tin-echo kitchen, tube-light flicker.
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I love Goodnight Moon. You've
I love Goodnight Moon. You've really captured the flip side of the house and personalised all its things.
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Beautifully expressed. I
Beautifully expressed. I liked the musicality - cresendo of pulsed crimson/ no twisting and cracking symphony. Works well to create sense of empty loss that can be felt in moments of quiet.
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This is rockstar status. My
This is rockstar status. My favorite by far I have read on this site. Makes my dark little poems seem like childs play. Reading this inspires me.
Astounding.
Jeremy Hamilton
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