Peter Bain


The Cycle - Poem by Peter Bain

Autumn leaves are falling
Cold consumes the sky
Darkened nights come calling
Pretty flowers die

Weeds requiring a funeral
The grass a final cut
Organic cow shit fusion
Putrid boxes shut

Garden weapons sharpened
Chemicals stored away
Future anticipation
For a necessary day

A simple garden flurry
A single drop of blood
A possible cellular cocktail
A conclusion in the mud

Little seeds are falling
preparing for the day
When darkened nights are stalling
And flowers have their way

Topic(s) of this poem: flowers


Comments about The Cycle by Peter Bain

  • Kelly Kurt (9/24/2015 5:31:00 PM)


    A very lovely and well written piece, Peter. Thanks (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, September 24, 2015



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