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L'asile Des Fleurs
“L'asile Des Fleurs”
Mine is a mask we have seen before—
Though we recognize the face no more.
My blood is not my own to shed…
But upon this life, I have bled
With the echo of wilted flowers
In the mind that no longer is ours.
“And, is this Other in the room with us right now?”
We believe a garden had been
Beneath the curse of our skin.
A barren waste; once a sacred place
White webs and skeletal blooms interlace
Behind the souls in our eyes,
Past the shadows of our goodbyes.
“And do you see shadows?”
And in the sanctuary of shadows,
The beauty of nothingness grows:
Almost darkness, the light it brings
Shines where no bird now sings:
Songs we no longer dimly recall
In the throats of voices in the garden wall.
“He was found in the cornfield…I haven’t heard of him since…”
I believe we died among the lilies
And the falling of the leaves—
Bejeweled in the dew of shades
That lace the light upon our graves
Where we dream of meeting our wings,
And wait until the dead bird sings.
© 2021 Marten Hoyle
Mine is a mask we have seen before—
Though we recognize the face no more.
My blood is not my own to shed…
But upon this life, I have bled
With the echo of wilted flowers
In the mind that no longer is ours.
“And, is this Other in the room with us right now?”
We believe a garden had been
Beneath the curse of our skin.
A barren waste; once a sacred place
White webs and skeletal blooms interlace
Behind the souls in our eyes,
Past the shadows of our goodbyes.
“And do you see shadows?”
And in the sanctuary of shadows,
The beauty of nothingness grows:
Almost darkness, the light it brings
Shines where no bird now sings:
Songs we no longer dimly recall
In the throats of voices in the garden wall.
“He was found in the cornfield…I haven’t heard of him since…”
I believe we died among the lilies
And the falling of the leaves—
Bejeweled in the dew of shades
That lace the light upon our graves
Where we dream of meeting our wings,
And wait until the dead bird sings.
© 2021 Marten Hoyle
Published 18th Aug 2021
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Anonymous
19th Aug 2021 8:21am
Wow, there's a lot to enjoy here--
I like how the metaphor is taken to it's full length; and the interjects of overheard / disembodied speech; the haunting images, in particular the 2nd full stanza--very beautiful; and the way the garden as a foreign place, a place of perhaps disturbing other-ness, gets worked into the 2nd half of the poem.
A lesser poet would've pulled out sooner, but you kept going and exploring the idea to its fullest extent.
Much to admire here!
I like how the metaphor is taken to it's full length; and the interjects of overheard / disembodied speech; the haunting images, in particular the 2nd full stanza--very beautiful; and the way the garden as a foreign place, a place of perhaps disturbing other-ness, gets worked into the 2nd half of the poem.
A lesser poet would've pulled out sooner, but you kept going and exploring the idea to its fullest extent.
Much to admire here!
19th Aug 2021 6:43pm
Mr. Parsons,
What a wonderful correspondence to receive first thing in the morning. I am glad you enjoyed "L'asile Des Fleurs" and thank you whole-heartedly for your kind words. It is not often that people comment on (or share) my work, so this is vastly appreciated. Thank you again.
Best wishes,
--Marten Hoyle
What a wonderful correspondence to receive first thing in the morning. I am glad you enjoyed "L'asile Des Fleurs" and thank you whole-heartedly for your kind words. It is not often that people comment on (or share) my work, so this is vastly appreciated. Thank you again.
Best wishes,
--Marten Hoyle
