Patti Masterman


In the field there grow lovely flowers,
Growing beauty, for the world to see.
But a gardener soon comes to cut them;
An arrangement in futility.

For all cut flowers are dead ones;
Killed, dragged out by the roots-
The bounty of earth, given all for free,
We treat as our selfish loot.

So we mark our days with dead flowers,
Chosen special, for the event in mind;
Dead carnations, for the paler dead ones
Who've left their wilting lives behind.

Dead roses for dead children,
For bride's whose old lives won't survive;
Dead boutonnieres, for bachelor's tears,
Who in secret for the old days pine.

Red roses, dead in a few days time,
For the harpy or the shameless flirt-
While everybody seeing them wonders
About the facts; and what's the dirt?

Dead flowers, from lover to beloved,
Dead flowers, in cold glass stand,
Dead flowers are our only answer;
It's always been the way of man.

Please don't give me flowers;
No flowers, now or ever,
No dying flowers, for my wistful grave-
To remind how long, 'forever'

Submitted: Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Edited: Friday, August 05, 2011

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  • Adeline Foster (7/17/2011 2:06:00 PM)

    Yes, I would say this is really and interesting work. Your intent comes across clearly. May I suggest one change: 'now or never' means the opposite of 'now or ever' which I do think your really meant.
    Adeline (Report) Reply

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