The exercise:
Today's prompt comes from a random observation on the way home from the bus station this afternoon: an abandoned flower in the rain.
Mine:
The rain batters the petals,
Slide to the ground and settle,
Become a rippling mirror -
The answers are no nearer.
He will never understand
Why she turned from helping hands,
Why she must be on her own,
Why she left him on this stone.
His heart exposed to her pain
Like a flower in the rain.
That's a touching motif for inspiration today! I like your poem, it has a bitter-sweet quality to it.
ReplyDeleteFlowers in the rain
Iridescence of water on petal,
Wakes a rainbow in the mind,
Emotions flow and you will find,
Surcease beneath the metal,
And as water pools you settle,
Like mercury (and that is unkind),
There's time no more to be blind,
The flowers must bring you to fettle.
I decided to go prose. I'm never very good with poetry...
ReplyDeleteI shivered in the opening of the old bus shelter, setting my face against the cold rain. I lowered my head, as I usually did, but I wasn't greeted by the usual monochromatic sidewalk. Instead, a single flower lay at my feet. I could only guess it was a rose, from its red color. But it was a peculiar shade of red, almost a dusky, bloodred garnet color. I bent down to pick it up, my work-weary legs groaning against the rust of the cold. I caressed the flower, admiring its beauty. A few of the petals on one side were battered, but I was surprised that hadn't been trampled by this time.
It's almost funny, really, how much that flower made me think. Here was a thing of devine beauty, out in this cold, dark world. It probably wasn't left out of spite or malice, but rather the one assigned its care had other things to think about at the moment. Then I happened to come along to pick it up, to salvage it, despite its imperfections.
It's almost funny, really, how much I felt like that dusky rose. But in that sense, the rose was luckier than I. I had yet to find someone to find me, to notice me, to pick me up from outside the bus stop, imperfections and all.
Greg - thanks, it was just something that caught my eye on the way by. Wish I could have snapped a picture of it.
ReplyDeleteg2 - well you won't get any better if you keep avoiding it :D
I really enjoyed your prose though, particularly the closing paragraph.
I thank you for your praise, but I'm taking that "you won't get any better [at poetry] if you keep avoiding it" comment as a challenge... I'll try to do as much poetry on this as I can, but remember, you more or less asked for it. And if I find you writhing on the ground from over-exposure to pure mediocre-sappiness, don't say I didn't warn ya. ^^
ReplyDeletehttp://writing-wrambler.blogspot.com/2009/04/npm-1-or-you-asked-for-it.html
ReplyDeleteYou asked for it, 'Loo!
May I direct your attention, senora, to Rule #3, in the upper right corner of this page?
ReplyDeleteYes? Most excellent.
And I'm off to see just what it was that I asked for :)