Monday, February 21, 2011

In a Garden

She stepped among the coloring flowers
and kicked over every ornament in her way:
a bird bath, an old gnome, a boy
whom she'd been chasing. Her dress already
brushed in strokes of green and brown,
she knelt to pick dandelions from the grass;
the yellow weeds staining young fingers,
she held death so loosely in her hands.

8 comments:

Akeith Walters said...

great poem

jbkrost said...

Yes...
very good, I like it alot...
thanks for the comments

manik sharma said...

Sean,
a great poem with a gripping climax...there's something about how things end...last impressions are maybe the only lasting impressions in some cases....and you make a strong one here....brilliant work

Shauna said...

Oustanding. This painting you've
written of a young powerful
gifted young girl.

Aray said...

I like how you incorporated art, like a moving oil painting. I wanted to know what made the girl so cross. It was interesting how you turned an innocent image of dandelion picking into a savage murder.

Chris said...

wow i love the ending of this, not what i expected but it really adds depth to the poem

littlebitofsonshine said...

Just WOW i can totally feel you words.Thank you for sharing them!!!!

Melbourne imran said...

Cheering post !! keep on blogging beautiful posts !!