All storytellers - be they writer, poet, sculpture, cartoonist, songwriter,musician, painter, historian, moviemakers, architect or interior designer.................... inspire me too look at world through fresh eyes.

I'm a Aspiring Storyteller ~ Its what I love, it's what I breathe, it feeds my soul.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Dead Things

Against the stark white wall

Sits a curved etched glass vase

Containing crystal water so pure

Holding new spring blooms

On their freshly cut turgid stems

Brilliant in their newness

Colours vividly bright

Clusters of white flesh wearing their hearts

Fluffy waterfalls of yellow

Exotic eastern with lips full and soft

Blood red paws grasping at air

Their scents intermingled intoxicatingly

They sit so perfect – Life cut so short

Starting their rapid decline

Desiccation of their flesh

The petals wilting and falling

Littering the dark polished mantle

Becoming poisoned with neglect

Vessel now stained with their life

The water now green and viscous

The long forgotten blooms now rotting

Sweeping the decaying remnants off the mantel

Taking the scum ridden stems out

Dump them unceremoniously into the garbage

Mixing with other refuse of the unwanted

The stagnant aroma hugs me like a blanket

Making my eyes itch and water

Pervading my nostrils – Bile rising in my throat

With the stench of the rotting

As I lift the vase from the mantle

The rancid water slopping in the vase

A new wave of revulsion takes me over

As I throw out the odour laden fluid

Before it sticks to the house

And soaks into the walls forever

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