Monday, April 19, 2010



They drop their petals
like withered crones now.

But only last week,
they were modest, closed
simple blooms folded in
like young ladies
legs crossed properly.
Stems trimmed
they drink, thirsty
exuberant in their youth.

Each day they open
relaxing tight hold on
Gentility, deportment.
Growth unbends,
stems curve
seeking to drop down,
reach out.

Then they are wanton,
innermost parts fully exposed
pollen dripping, passion staining
petals yellow, sticky, wet
nothing hidden
open, flat.

Now parched, wrinkled,
dropping petals
color faded
a somber death.


Ralph said...

They lie on earth and make the growth of next years glorious blooms. I love your words and the thoughts they inspire. The never ending cycle of life and death and life again. I will carry these words through my day.

Kitty Wallis said...

Fine piece on the majesty of fulfilled purpose. I like your painting and I love your words.

Kaylyn said...

Ahhh What they did for love!

Wonderful painting. The abstract quality is well suited to the subject. psst...another series option?

please tell Celeste we'll miss her, but she should find that she has hours more in the day without the distraction of the magic box!

Anonymous said...

What a beautiful poem to go with a beautiful painting! How does so much talent fit into one person? ;-)

Four Seasons in a Life said...

Dear Katherine,

Almost abstract and yet still realistic, perfect golden mean composition this very impressive pastel is filled with energy and enough mystery for the imagination.

Your poem is a delight to read this month, as it is National Poetry Month.

Thank you for sharing,