A Poem by Paul Shannon

Stirred no more by painter’s shifty brush

It is not with the paints as it is 

With the slush

Blended carnaria by ironshod ladle

Abandoned Infant Sorrow inside of his cradle

Our virtuous beauty, a caretaker lost

Her serpent’s veil is torn away, 

Forgotten in the frost

The Muse’s gilded springtime promise

Lying on a razor’s edge

Maternal lactalbumin goddess

Painting with a concrete sledge

Her twisted countenance of ire 

Lidless in its framing thrall

Deep cavity of joyless darkness

Spewing tar and orchids from her maw

I can see her now, her dead-eyed stare 

Lingering in the corner

Don’t ask for favors, it’s too far gone now

They’ll seize you if you mourn her

© 2020 Paul Shannon

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Creative lyrics make "Orchids" a complex work.
Intriguing read, Paul.

Posted 2 Years Ago

The last stanza was my favorite, I hope you keep writing pieces like this.

Posted 2 Years Ago

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2 Reviews
Added on June 8, 2020
Last Updated on June 8, 2020


Paul Shannon
Paul Shannon

Newfield, NJ

I've read Hemingway and Flaubert! Give me a chance, man! more..

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