Blossoms lay dying in the dust

Blossoms lay dying
in the dust.

Their short life
Shut out from
the sun above.

Their satin petals
now, in darkness lay.
Sinking into the abyss.

Down down
carried on the breeze.
They dance gracefully.

In slow motion fall
Into the Labyrinth
of the circle of life

— Electric Blue, Oct 26, 2008

About This Poem

About the Author

Country/Region: GBR

Critiques

professor

17 years 7 months ago

The transcience

of fragrant blossoms will always serve as a reminder to us all to grasp and appreciate the moment of their blooming Maggie. There is indeed a circle but sometimes it gets broken and the moment is lost for ever. Hope life is treating you well. Keith

Electric Blue

17 years 7 months ago

blossoms lay dying in the dust

Keith This blossom is me - I come alive and bloom in the presence of love I radiate and glow,but feel so lost when apart. But to re blooms again when love is present the owner of my heart. The heart of the flower blooms and glows again and again. I am in that circle. electricblue

W.C.Wampler

17 years 6 months ago

blossoms poem

E.B., Your new work (even Oct)is beautiful. You are always amazing. I'm moved to write a poem about a wind of change that blows through a garden of mature wild flowers, and comes out the other side a better breeze for the world. And the world looks to see what has brought this subtle strength which bolsters up desires to rekindle fires, and watches, learning, about that which they thought they knew. Learning, from the blossoms which give and give and give, even as they drift alone in the labyrinth. wcw

Electric Blue

17 years 6 months ago

Blossoms lay dying in the dust

WC welcome back As you say about poetry. We all write differently. To me. I was feeling low, wishing to be elsewhere. To see the seasons there. So to take a walk all alone. To see the wonders of nature. Sad to see the satin pearl petals fall. But not straight to the ground but dance gracefully all in slow motion. Until the soft brown earth, coushions their fall. Then to immerse themselves over time. Deep deep into the earth thru the labyrinth Of time. To sleep, until another day. Electricblue WC have a look at The Agony of Being a Poet - Ha!