It's Still Life

Tulip (rewritten)

A tulip’s deep
and echoed voice,
a flower fountain, a red
streaked revenge.
It is a vanity, even in its
own shadow. But
such beauty drowns
in rain. Once loved by spring,
now dies away, carried
off by a Narcissus glance.

AprDay 22: A Plant

II.

I watched a bee
fly round and round,
encircled in a buzzing fuss,
and I suspect,
if that glass were square,
that bee would buzz
its way right out.

Napowrimo: a circle can’t have corners

It’s National Poetry Writing Month, which explains the surge in activity. I’m following three different sites generating daily prompts. Writers’ Digest Poetic Asides, the National Poetry Writing Month website (NaPoWriMo) and my old friend, Walt, over at Gnomes. All of these pieces are drafts.