Dandelion
By Melkur
Thu, 31 Jan 2013
- 782 reads
2 comments
Bright yellow flower to be found
By the foot of the mourning stone:
Almost an affront to be that colour,
As a clown at a funeral,
Hamlet’s gravedigger in jest.
Turning clock-wise by an angel,
Stone hands fixed in prayer,
For times past and to come.
So the greying stalk seeds,
Raising brothers again by other stones.
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I think I have just found
Permalink Submitted by sanexpeditus on
I think I have just found one of my favourite writers here! This is exceptional, you have an amazing ability to take the subtle, the ordinary and simple things and give them purpose, power and responsiblity for something greater, something deeper. 'the greying stalk seeds'.. such a keen eye for detail, my dear poet, a sharp observation that follows the migration of the death of flower to the surrounding tombstones. My kind of poetry!
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