Flowers Of Forgetfulness Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Flowers of forgetfulness
Into its giving own time
Blackish thoughts so less
Never to blossoms climb
Reposeful the gone hours
Garden of tormented ways
Lonesome ebony towers
The chisel stones of grays

The words gone tomorrow
Chirping without intensity
No one will them borrow
Oblivion will set them free
Not of a hope to turn again
Judgements small and dry
Who can its nonsene explain
When it comes here or why

They are wings that can’t go
For merely they beat the air
Never to reach high or flow
Always to earth’s decay near


*(...”Given over to oblivion
Grown up and flowering
With incense and tares
And to the wild buzzing
Of a hundred dirty flies” - Arthur Rimbaud)