Today's poem is personal, but not because I wrote it - rather because of its content... How do you respond to "love"? How do you offer it? Are you hesitant and fragile, has it lost you or you lost it? Where do you go to find a strong positive love, one that outlasts others?
Enjoy my thoughts, let me know what your response is.
Equally, if you feel I am being too cryptic, let me know about that too!
My love is a dead flower.
It is precious, picked for you,
Cut off, distant from its source,
Pain excruciating, love everlasting,
Placed into your hand.
Only accept it.
My love's life has passed.
Quiet, still as death-
The very sepals cold and numb,
Embers which have drawn from
The tumultuous fire of life,
Now dull and done.
Each petal separate, yet bound
In a ring around the centre,
Still open and facing you.
My love is like a dead flower-head.
Always offering you love,
Love still going, out-growing,
Even poured out
Amid thorns and cruel shoots.
Words are choked, cut up.
My love which has died
Is better than them,
Has more life than they to give.
They bring blight in each new guise,
Tied attractively, bowed affectionately;
Yet my love remains.
No thorn shall hamper its growth,
No possible thing can hamper