The Vase

December 23, 2010
By writehanded SILVER, Gasport, New York
writehanded SILVER, Gasport, New York
5 articles 5 photos 4 comments

Slender shape, like the woman who
filled you with tumble smooth stones and water, until
He was no longer there to
bring her flowers.

Evaporation is a slower process inside.
You suckled each droplet of life until
heat thieved it gently from your throat,
leaving you hollowed bone.

The cat ate your blossoms.

Then again they were never yours. Always hers, even when
She was no longer there to
exclaim in her summer voice “Oh George,
how lovely.” in the midst of November.


The author's comments:
The idea - from a prompt- was to take an inanimate object and use it to create the impression of death. The flowers must have drawn my mind to a vase at first, because of their life and death. Then the poem sort of took my idea and made it deeper, because it became more about the lives and deaths of the people supplying the flowers.

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Redolvene GOLD said...
on Dec. 21 2014 at 6:30 pm
Redolvene GOLD, Sunny, Florida
10 articles 1 photo 33 comments
This is such a beautiful piece of poetry. You are an amazing writer! Five stars :)


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