7: Shriveled Flowers

Oh, how the smoke

rises,

as we all fall down.

It makes us choke

lifeless;

on this air we drown.

    Times have made us

bitter and contempt;

on this life we are spent.

Like shriveled flowers,

we all wither away,

Oh just make it through today!

    Trees speak the truth

(silence);

fruit of labor rots away .

Those wise ole fools,

time and again,

speak our ears bloody.

    Times have made us

bitter and contempt;

on this life we are spent.

Like shriveled flowers,

we all wither away,

Oh just make it through today!

     Lay down your head,

rest a while--

an oak box waits for you soon.

Wake up in stead,

wary child,

listen to him or the sun will set on you

Reviews

[A Glow in the Pit of My..]

Ah! wake up in stead // instead - I don't know if that was intentional, but I like the play on words there, as they both fit well. Resting in Oak boxes... fruits of our labors rotting... just really love the whole thing.

[BAlanMorgan]

I hope you read more of my stuff. All of my stuff is intentional. I put a lot of thought into each word I use, and there's one or two older poems, that obviously have less thought than my newest stuff. Everything is intentional.

[A Glow in the Pit of My Soul]

I certainly will be reading more, good sir. Love it.