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how quelling, now, your dwelling
plucked-flower reaping song
“We say we love flowers, yet we pluck them. We say we love trees,
yet we cut them down. And people still wonder why some are afraid
when told they are loved.”—Brandi Snyder
how linden
in the garden,
resplendent in the cradle
of the wind,
the conversations
of bright, charming roses
and sweet forget-me-nots,
cut short by strident knife
in prime of life!
not knowing
where they’re going,
they huddle close to hear
the reaping song:
hasten to me, sweet darlings,
from chilly winds;
the patio awaits
your opium-fragrance
ballerina dance.
how quelling,
now, your dwelling,
safe from the searing sun
you’ve left behind,
soil conservation
in your rootless poses.
o what a way to die,
that i may have my pleasure
in good measure!
© Copyright 2023 November 18
by Clyve A. Bowen♫
“We say we love flowers, yet we pluck them. We say we love trees,
yet we cut them down. And people still wonder why some are afraid
when told they are loved.”—Brandi Snyder
how linden
in the garden,
resplendent in the cradle
of the wind,
the conversations
of bright, charming roses
and sweet forget-me-nots,
cut short by strident knife
in prime of life!
not knowing
where they’re going,
they huddle close to hear
the reaping song:
hasten to me, sweet darlings,
from chilly winds;
the patio awaits
your opium-fragrance
ballerina dance.
how quelling,
now, your dwelling,
safe from the searing sun
you’ve left behind,
soil conservation
in your rootless poses.
o what a way to die,
that i may have my pleasure
in good measure!
© Copyright 2023 November 18
by Clyve A. Bowen♫
Published 19th Nov 2023
| Edited 20th Nov 2023
Author's Note
AI Summary
The poem reflects on the paradox of loving nature while destroying it. The beauty of flowers and trees is admired, yet they are cut down and plucked. The conversations of roses and forget-me-nots are cut short by the knife, leaving them unaware of their fate. The reaping song calls for the flowers to be harvested for human pleasure, leaving them rootless in their new dwelling. The poem highlights the irony of claiming to love nature while exploiting it for personal enjoyment.
The poem reflects on the paradox of loving nature while destroying it. The beauty of flowers and trees is admired, yet they are cut down and plucked. The conversations of roses and forget-me-nots are cut short by the knife, leaving them unaware of their fate. The reaping song calls for the flowers to be harvested for human pleasure, leaving them rootless in their new dwelling. The poem highlights the irony of claiming to love nature while exploiting it for personal enjoyment.
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