Vincas In The Wind

Whistling wind rustles the grass,

freshly green and newly sprouted from the dirt.

Spring dawns

      bright

and flowers

    abound.

A bouquet of vincas, purple, pink and white,

lies against a grave, their petals

rustled by the whistling wind.

A freshly buried relative;

lies beneath the ground.

                 Grandma among the dandelions.

I breathe in spring time,

earthy with a flowery scent.

A vinca petal falls

           slowly

to the ground.

A tear rolls

           slowly

off my cheek.

Reviews

[Samuel Ferris]

i like this poem, i feel your kinda around the same developmental hump as i am, still wrestling with what exactly separates the best poets like frost, heaney, sandburg....blah blah the list goes on. Im reading a fantastic and fairly affordable book called a poetry handbook by marry oliver, its definitely worth a read.

the ending feels like the syntax or style could be more arresting. It might just be me but it didnt have that twist of thought or interest that really draws you in. I think poetry needs to be super charged with feeling. Every syllable uttered working to intensify the feeling, because i find often it is easy to underestimate the affect a poem will have on people other than ourselves. It something i am constantly trying to do better.

[Lorraine]

It's very touching. You give flowers a whole new definition. It's just now that I realize that the flowers we give to our dead relatives eventually die with them. It's a very sad thought. You have an amazing view of things.

Keep Writing. ^___^

[Orlando Murcia]

Very touching and moving

A vinca petal falls
slowly
to the ground
A tear rolls
slowly
off my chheek

Great work Francesca