He who learns must suffer, and, even in our sleep, pain that we cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God. - Aeschylus

Saturday, July 16, 2016

The Flower

A poem written a little over a year ago that I haven't gotten around to publishing until now...

The Flower

Spring is her time to shine,
petals unfolding so gently,
open to catching the light,
her stem poised so firmly,
awaiting the morning dew.

Summer brings her storms,
petals pelted by soft rains,
shaped into curved forms,
her stem bows and strains,
awaiting skies of cyan hue.

Fall is her time for fading,
petals drifting to the earth,
amid the leaves parading,
her stem bent to its berth,
awaiting death’s final cue.

Winter brings her snows,
petals fallen to the ground,
beauty brought to a close,
her stem on the icy mound,
awaiting a life begun anew.

Note:  Photo credit goes to me. In this poem I'm using fairly typical devices like a five-line stanza, end rhyme, start rhyme, internal rhyme, and natural imagery.  The meaning is both literal and allegorical, specifically a depiction of the life cycle of a flower (literal) and the life cycle of a soul (allegorical).

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