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What will the flowers sing of
once the sun has gone
When chilling winds kill the dove
and night cries for the dawn
By garden gates children play
Mother's just a tear away
The hourglass is still half-full
Noone stops to pray
Rabbits in the rye
The pawns haven't heard
The book is almost done
Just ignore the misspelled word
Star shine robes the heath
showing beauty born by night
The dragons keep their dreamless sleep
Tomorrow wakes their final fight
The flowers have no song
Smoke comes to cloud the sun
Mythic masks melt away
wolf and lamb will run
Everyman holds the threads
That weaves the patterns bold
Spinning wheel loses speed
Our future has been sold
What will the flowers sing of
Once clouds lose their mind
water weaves a worried glance
The sun has been too kind.
Thorny briars hug the walls
Roses hang their heads
above a door locked for years
Life has turned away in dread
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Magnificent! The meter of this poem is very good; don't worry about what you are supposed to be saying to the reader... sometimes simply evoking an emotion is enough.
In the words of Hemingway, poorly quoted I fear, it's your peice of writing, and you do not have to say anything about it, and you may take the credit for anything anyone reads into it.
Thank you and yes I did not have an exact topic as this poem came very quickly almost as if the pen moved on it's own.It was written after attending a Fantasy Film Festival. Perhaps it can be interpreted based upon the reader's perception.
